《The Most Violent White Mage》


 Prologue

    <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¡ªif 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¡ª¡±


    ¡°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¡ªthe support classes coveted by every party yet too expensive or demanding to invite¡ªwere 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¡ª¡± 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¡ª¡±


    ¡°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¡ªthey 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¡ªall 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!¡°


    A rock clocked him right on the forehead.


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


    ...and he blacked out.


    ¡°What the¡ªFrederick!?¡±


    Lauren made to rush for the party leader but¡ª


    ¡°[Barrier]!¡±


    ¡ªa 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¡ªLauren?¡±


    ¡°Whatever, hide away or leave if you want. You can¡¯t tell me what to do!¡±


    ¡°Wait, at least¡ªjust 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¡ªand this time the Archer leaned her head¡ªthat 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¡ªEEELP!¡±


    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¡ªand 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¡ªand 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¡ªswish¡ªno 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¡ªand 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¡ªanything 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¡ªand 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¡ªand 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¡ªand 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¡ªonly 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¡ªeuugh! That stench¡­!¡±


    ¡°I killed all the goblins.¡±


    ¡°So your party killed goblins,¡± the Receptionist said. ¡°That doesn¡¯t explain¡ª¡°


    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.¡±

 001

    <div>


    It was said there were once three sister moons in the night sky.


    The world was drenched in darkness, a malignant ichor called Demontide, where evil preyed upon all that was good and tormented all that was innocent. The Goddess Kyaeris, in her boundless benevolence, descended from the heavens and thus made her decree: this world shall be brought to order. She and her angels rained down holy spears upon the demonic spawn for seven moons, bleaching the world in divine light and paving a path toward a new era.


    She plucked one of the moons from the sky and molded it into the earth, while the remaining two moons served as her all-knowing eyes. Thus, the crescent-shaped continent Crescelias was born.


    But her work wasn''t done.


    Monsters and demons still threatened the world for as long everyone remembered. Calamities would doom the world and a Hero anointed by the Goddess must rise up and lead the fight against the Demontide.


    It was an epic that cycled every one hundred years.


    However, years ago, the Great Prophet Halos announced to the world upon the peak of the Holy Garden Kingdom: "The balance of good and evil has been broken. In the years to come, there will be a great many Calamities. Their ferocity and number shall scar the earth, and the Evil Lake shall devour the Nine Kingdoms."


    "Children of Kyaeris, hear me. This world has been abandoned."


    The man had been lynched and burned at the stake for his heresy. But it was only until a Calamity had crawled out from the Demontide, decades earlier than the cycles would have predicted, that his words were treated as a prophecy, a warning sent by the Goddess.


    The leaders of the northern kingdoms of the Crescelias gathered at the summit, mediated by the great Dragon Tale guild.


    Collegium of the Northern Magic Towers.


    Rosarium the Kingdom of Romance.


    Lunaria the Holy Garden.


    Sarnaught the Grand Nautical Fleet.


    They all signed a pact, and named after the Great Prophet himself, they formed the Halos Alliance.


    However, they were never abandoned like Halos had said. Within each of the Children of Kyaeris was the Divine Glass, earning its name from its translucent, glass-like appearance and its origins to the greater divine, a window into the essence of one''s own being. From it, they receive her gifts.


    Classes, Karma, Status and Skills.


    These four gifts were their greatest weapons against the Demontide and its Calamities. They worship, pray and speak to the Divine Glass, diligently carrying on her holy mission to defeat the Demontide.


    <hr>


    Willow swirled the water in her half-empty tankard. She stared inside and her own blue eyes stare back, a little bored, a little tired.


    The guild attendants had turned on the lights for the evening. Manastones took over where the fireplace couldn''t, spreading their toasty glow throughout the mess hall.


    The night was always livelier than the day. Adventure parties would march while the sun''s out and would return from their quests by sunset. Then with their reward, they would spend it on the menu, celebrating yet another day of thrilling adventure.


    One by one, they filled the seats. By the eighth group, a dull roar filled the room. By the twelfth, it was packed with the warm bodies of drunken revelry, making money and making merry.


    At some point, someone under the influence said something they shouldn''t and now a fight had broken out. The tables were moved away from the center, almost like clockwork, as the crowd made theirs bets and cheered for who would win.


    She supposed she should count herself lucky. She had an entire table to herself, secluded away in one of dark corners where the guild lacked the manastones to light.


    Maybe if she was the same girl from seven months ago, she would be among them, maybe appalled, maybe amazed by the spectacle. But a girl could only heal so many broken noses before the excitement was finally beaten out of her.


    She would keep an eye and ear out, just in case the fighters took it too far, but that''s all.


    Otherwise? Just another night in Risadel''s branch of the Dragon Tale guild.


    Oh, what she would do for some smartphone technology again. Never realized what she took for granted until it was gone. Now the hours would tick on by with barely anything of interest to distract herself with.


    These pretty blue windows with all their funky letters and numbers were as close it could get:


    [Class] (ERROR)


    White Mage


    Titles (ERROR)


    Apprentice (Bronze)


    Teacher (Silver)


    Diligence (Gold)


    Goblin Slayer (Bronze)


    Slime Slayer (Bronze)


    Survivor (Bronze)


    [Karma]


    1294


    [Status]


    STR: 17


    CON: 12


    DEX: 11


    INT: 17


    PER: 15


    MAN: 7


    LUK: ERROR


    [Skills]


    Barrier (Silver)


    Featherlight (Silver)


    Mana Manipulation (Silver)


    Mana Sense (Bronze)


    Recover (Bronze)


    Reinforcement (Silver)


    Synthesis (Silver)


    Telekinis (Silver)


    Starsphere Photonray (Bronze)


    Water Manifestation (Bronze)


    Water Manipulation (Bronze)


    <div>


    She pinched her brows and groaned. Her strength leveled up again. For most people it''s something to celebrate. But there was a saying in the guild, that if your strength stat ever exceeded your intelligence, you automatically qualify as a meathead.


    She didn''t spend almost two and a half years studying in the Northern Magic Towers just to be another human Fighter, dammit. If anyone found out, she''d lose all respect as a mage!


    "Brooding on your lonesome again, Willow?"


    "...Secretary Layla." Willow tilted her head toward the voice. "I see you''re on waiter duty again."


    "And you''re as stiff as ever."


    A tray of warm, steaming bowls was placed on the table. Fresh from the pot, maybe a little gamey, but it brought a little life into Willow''s dark corner all the same.


    "Here you go. Tonight''s dinner: rice and bogbeast stew!"


    Willow picked up her spoon. "Better than bread and pickles, at least."


    "You adventurers are never going to let that go, huh?"


    Layla stepped around, and Willow thought she was going to serve the next table over; instead, she placed two fresh tankards of beer on the table¡ªsliding one over to Willow and the other to herself¡ªto pull up a chair and sit on the other side.


    Layla was a bit older than the other guild attendants of Risadel, perhaps even among the first ones there when the guild branch was rebuilt. When she wasn''t drawing eyes with her bright red hair, manning the front desk or serving tables, she''s making sure the guild was running exactly as expected. Everyone respected her, even Willow.


    Now if only she wasn''t so nosy...


    Layla rested her chin in her hands, watching the White Mage eat as if she''s a grouchy kitten lapping from a bowl of kibble. "How about a drink to loosen up? We finally got another shipment of the good stuff after the last major escort quest, so consider it on the house."


    "You know I can''t. Someone seriously injured could barge through those doors at any minute."


    "Is that really all? Everyone has been accounted for. Nobody will be coming at this hour any time soon, let alone someone stupid enough to get hurt by goblins of all things."


    "You''d be surprised," Willow groused.


    "Whatever you say, grumpy cat," Layla giggled. "Besides, the Cleric whose supposed to take over should be waking up from her nap by now."


    "...That girl is barely hanging together."


    "And you''re not?" Layla looked at her up and down. "It''s been three quests back to back this week and each time you return covered in blood. Should you really be worried about someone else right now?"


    Willow masked her grimace with a long swig of water. "...It''s my job."


    "Your job¡ªpfft!" Layla tried to hide lips with the drinking cup, but that ended up spilling some beer on her collar. "You used to be so cute and confused when you first arrived here six, no, seven months ago. And here you are, your hair turned all white and talking like a real veteran. Oh, where did the time go..."


    "My hair is¡ª"


    There was a loud cheer.


    The crowd parted like the sea as a man was thrown out of the circle and slammed into a wall. There was a blue haze where the brick bent, like rubber, before the enchantment mended it back into shape like it never happened.


    Willow made to stand up but then the man pushed off, a little sway in his feet and a little red on his cheeks, but still standing. He wiped the blood from his nose and began strutting back into the circle where the audience egged the brawlers on for a second round.Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.


    Sighing through her nose, Willow settled back down. Then frowned.


    Layla noticed the look and leaned in, intrigued. "Thinking of making a bet?"


    "You banned me from those, remember?" the White Mage deadpanned. "...I just didn''t recognize him. Did more adventurers come in while I was gone?"


    "Yep." Layla grinned. "There has been more goblin sightings along the trade routes around Risadel lately. The Merchants Association made enough of a fuss that the Halos Alliance ''generously'' sponsored the elimination quests. Even some aspiring adventurers couldn''t resist the coin."


    "Newbies." Willow squinted. "This close to the Evil Lake?"


    "Before you ask, we still haven''t heard back from the Support Corps system. Looks like you''ll be busy on your own for the next few weeks." Layla''s smiled drooped a little. "Sorry."


    Willow made a noise half-way between a sigh and a growl.


    As a function of the Halos Alliance treaty, the Support Corps was a joint effort between Rosarium and Dragon Tale. The kingdom would lend some of its military personnel, while the guild would lend its adventurers. Just send a status report and a request, and then they''re sent wherever they''re needed across the northern continent at the discretion of the network.


    Supposedly, this kept everything fair and efficient. Those with too much manpower would send help to those with too little. Every quest would be done on time, casualties would be reduced to a minimum, and the continent would be safer from the monsters.


    But if the information didn''t line up with reality, or if one side made up excuses refused to let go of what few supporters they have, then, well...


    "Letting the Rosarium Bureau run their part of the Support Corps was a mistake."


    "Mhm," Layla agreed. "You''re telling me."


    As Willow took another bite of stew, her eyes were drawn to the brawl. Quiet for a moment, contemplating.


    "Just me, huh..."


    "And the Cleric."


    "Again. Barely hanging together."


    Willow made to drink but then stopped. The cup''s empty.


    "Just take the beer, kid." Layla had a gentle look. "Live a little. You''ll never know when life would hit you where it hurts."


    Willow rolled her eyes. The Secretary would just keep pestering her so she obliged. She stared at the fizzling tankard in her hands. "Funny. You''re always on Master Gerald''s case for drinking on the job."


    "Well that''s because that geezer doesn''t know a thing about moderation. Can''t be too careful around those sailor types. I''ve seen men who came from the Evil Lake, empty like they lost the winds on the sails, drinking themselves to death. Can''t have ourselves lose our only Platinum-ranked adventurer from alcohol poisoning, now can we?"


    "Right."


    Willow lifted the drink to her lips and¡ª


    The crowd went wild, the loudest outcry yet. Half of them cheered while the other half groaned, and that''s how they knew that the fight was over.


    Willow set the drink down and stood up. "That''s my cue."


    "W-wait, what about your drink?"


    "Give it to the Cleric. After this, I''m done for the night anyways," she said, her voice drowning out as she pushed her way through the circle.


    The new guy had won, standing tall and proud. Now that she had a better look at him, he was no stranger to the business. His wide shoulders and toned muscles showed through his shirt, and his unkept beard stained with his own blood. The other guy was on the ground, nursing his head, but mostly sporting the same injuries. Seemed like they both gave as much as they got; a truly honorable duel, according the self-proclaimed poets of the guild.


    She rolled up sleeves, mana at her fingertips, already knowing what to do.


    One of the adventurers noticed and began pulling the others aside. "Hey, hey, let ''er through. The Nose Fixer''s working her magic!"


    ...Maybe she should go back to warning them against hitting each other in the faces again. They never listen, but a girl could hope.


    <hr>


    Risadel was more of a fortress than a town.


    Stone walls, thick and tall, surrounded the town with a river cutting through its center. Soldiers patrolled each side, eyes constantly flickering toward the running waters. Every few blocks there would be a river gate with a bridge on top, and on the bridges, there were cannons and ballistae mounted on the edge, each pointed down the river and paired with crates of mana stones, laid out in the open as if there''s not a single worry anyone would mess with them.


    Willow gave them a wide berth whenever she crossed, a firm grip on her staff in case she needed to cast a [Barrier] spell. Intellectually, she knew they''re all rigorously built and tested to never go off on accident, but one can never be too careful.


    For all the military activity, it certainly didn''t stop people from milling about and enjoying the air under the night sky.


    Willow walked through the night market, the hood of white cloak (perfectly cleaned of goblin guts) pulled up to ward off the cold.


    Manalight and torchlight lit up the street. Hawkers manned their stalls, showing off goods and trinkets carried from far away lands. She even spotted a few merchants she recognized from one of the towns she visited from her past quests.


    But the true attractions were the traveling bards, dressed in flamboyant robes and their instruments strummed along dexterous hands.


    The Rosarium Kingdom was the land of the arts. Music, dance, and literature, hailing the glories of heroes past, have been its long-fought traditions since its founding by the Great Hero Gram 2,000 years ago. No town under the Rosarium dominion could call itself one without a Bard Street to serenade the devils away.


    It was bustling and lively. Every night there were more people than the night before. Hard to believe Risadel used to be a ruin before the Halos Alliance stepped in.


    "¡ªand that''s only the beginning of the daring exploits of the Azure Dragons! Traveling far across Rosarium, they search of a spear worthy of our blue maiden. Oh, this journey, it''s like poetry! They slew demons and creatures beyond mortal reason from sea to sea¡ª"


    "¡ªof Nulwiz''s monster wave invasion breaking through their Second Wall? The clerics of Providence, hearing the desperate pleas of our heroes, sent their angelic helpers to come and save them from the evil clutches of the Demontide. My friends, it''s my solemn duty as a Bard of Rosarium to greet this fair company and woo myself a nun with a strum of my lute. What about my lady friend up north? Bah! She and I¡ª"


    "¡ªand that''s why your ugly ass is an affront to the eyes of Kyaeris! For as long as you live and walk under the two moons, you better be preparing an excuse when you meet the Goddess up there in heaven about that weird thing you did behind the trees at night. Tell me I''m wrong, I dare you¡ª"


    "¡ªhow Princess Dovelight''s kindness is second only to the Saints of the Holy Garden. I can bet you my hat, and all my songs praising her sweet smile and angelic eyes, that she''s the best candidate for the Crowning Selection. Oh, we have a naysayer, I see! I''ll have you know that I''m the biggest simpleton of them all! Come on stage and I''ll¡ª"


    There were comedians. There were storytellers. Each of their voices faded in and out as she passed by, only ever stopping when there was news about the lands outside Rosarium.


    Eventually, her feet carried her out of the night market. The noise turned silent behind her, like it was just a distant dream. After all, nobody really wanted to be here. Here, where the barracks and the bell towers rest under the oppressive shadow of the First Wall.


    Away from the light.


    Into the dark.


    The First Wall was the backbone of every coast-side fortress like Risadel. It was massive, as thick as three houses. The stone and brick were hyper-condensed by the finest wizards of the Northern Magic Towers of the Collegium. Further down the river, there was also the Second Wall and Third Wall beyond Risadel proper. The Rosarium Kingdom dedicated no small amount of its treasury to build this place.


    The military facilities were built into the First Wall, and on them were a series of platforms and stairwells leading all the way up to the outlook. Willow simply followed the light of the mana stones. They were dim and needed replacing soon, but she could see well enough to go without watching her footing.


    It was a long trek up. Leg-breaking for the average person. For Willow, it was like nothing.


    When she reached to the top, the world of Crescelias laid out before her.


    Up north, Willow could see the proud peaks of the Northern Magic Towers of Collegium. Down south were the Southern Magic Towers of Unitezlan. Beyond the First Wall were the Second and Third Walls in the distance, tall and stalwart, as if escorting the river toward the ends of the earth.


    Beyond even them was the sea, vast yet tranquil. It mirrored the twin moons above, dotting the waters with the sublime twinkling of the stars. Willow found herself transfixed, entranced by its beauty.


    It was so easy to forget that it was called the Evil Lake for a reason.


    It was the origin of all the world''s evils. The bane of all mankind. The source of Demontide.


    Willow often hung around the top of the First Wall to get away from it all. No adventurers starting fights. No bards to tell their tales. And certainly no Layla moseying in her business.


    She figured the atmosphere would help organize thoughts. There were errands to plan. Quests to prepare.


    ...And her future to decide.


    She took a deep breath. The cool, night air that filled her was like a balm to her soul.


    Sometimes Willow would stare up at the two moons and wonder, what was the plan? What was the point?


    When she reincarnated into this world, there was no meeting with a higher power, no objective for her to follow, no cheat powers to work with. None of the things typical of all the fantasy isekai novels she had read. She was just...born.


    Nineteens years in this world, studying, planning, worrying¡ªand she still hadn''t figured it out.


    Frankly, she''s scared there was a ''plot'' she''s supposed to follow. That''s how it''s supposed to go, right? There were evil monsters, heroes, a System and everything!


    Maybe she''s overreacting. Maybe she''s nothing special. Or maybe the real Hero was somewhere out there fighting an epic battle, and she just so happened to be the idiot who missed the signs and derailed the plot.


    But just in case, she trained to be a White Mage.


    Heal and support from the back lines. Meet the growing demands of her skills set. Let the real heroes do the real work.


    The ultimate objective of this world was the eradication of the Evil Lake and the Calamities born from within. So if she just waited and kept herself busy, this hypothetical ''plot'' will come to her eventually, right? Even if not, she''ll still rake in the dough and lead a decent life in retirement.


    It was a great plan. The best plan!


    But...


    "...why does it feel like I''m just withering away here?"


    Willow wandered alone atop of the First Wall, thinking, agonizing. It always came in circles. At this point, she only did it to vent and distract herself from the other things in her life.


    It wasn''t long before she stumbled upon someone.


    She saw him first. He was one of the few sources of light on the First Wall''s outlook, with a torch on one hand and a spear on the other. When she came up to him, instead of dismissing her or telling her to leave the premises as one might expect, his eyes lit up with recognition and immediately stood straight in a salute.


    "Good evening, ma''am. Back from another quest?"


    A Lake Watcher. Stiff, serious, dedicated to his job. As a soldier of the Rosarium Kingdom, he wore one of their signature uniforms: a dark blue coat and ensemble with the gilded rose emblem pinned on his chest, signifying his rank and affiliation. The uniform may look frail compared to the studded leathers and plate armor of most adventurers, but Willow could sense the mana flowing through its threads.


    "It''s the same old," Willow shrugged. "Nothing fun to tell."


    The Lake Watcher nodded. "Then my wife''s dinner will stay in my stomach tonight."


    ...Her adventures weren''t that bad.


    "How about you?" she asked. "Anything happen lately?"


    "Nothing to report. The Evil Lake remains quiet on this part of Crescelias, and the Harpoons of the Abyss returned from Sarnaught for their routine resupply as per usual." He paused. "If you were expecting a letter, I''m afraid none of the delivery doves have any addressed to you."


    "Right. Same as usual." Willow looked down. "Then who is this?"


    On the ground drooling and mumbling to herself like a loon, there was a girl cradling a bottle of wine like it''s the most precious thing in the world. Fluffy, triangular ears pressed flat against her blue hair. Her tail and legs were somewhat tucked in under a dusty brown cloak serving as a blanket, forming a ball of drunken bliss. The wolfkin, strangely lanky and soft for her kind, snored, showed a bit of fang, kicked her leg out, mumbled something about cookies and ice cream, and then snored again.


    Willow noticed the bronze adventurer''s badge pinned to her vest.


    "One of the new arrivals, huh?" she muttered. "Wandered far from the guild quarters."


    "It would seem so. She suddenly came up to me in a drunken stupor before talking herself into a sleep."


    "...Do you mean drinking herself to sleep?"


    "I meant what I said, ma''am. I recommend that she seek medical attention." He frowned. "I would do so myself, but leaving my post goes against my duty."


    "...Sure." She sighed. "Well, if that''s all. I''ll take her off your hands and bring her to the guild before she catches a cold or something."


    "Thank you." Again, the Lake Watcher saluted. "May the Moons watch you, White Mage."


    "...Yeah." The turn of phrase always creeped her out. She tried not to show it. "You, too. Good night, Lake Watcher."


    Willow made sure to be careful as she picked up the wolf girl in a princess carry. She''s so drunk out of her mind that nothing short of a bomb could wake her up, clinging to the bottle like it''s her lifeline. But you never know: there were always accidents with these kinds of people.


    Slowly, she turned back the way she came. Across the First Wall. Down the stairs. Into the Bard Street.


    It''s when the Dragon Tale guild was in sight that it happened.


    "Bleeuuugh..."


    Willow closed her eyes and held her breath.


    The fact that she''s so used to it, unfazed by the vomit trailing down her clothes, broke her heart a little.

 002

    Quest: Goblin Extermination


    Requirements: a party of four, minimum rank of Bronze.


    Objectives: clear the northeastern route leading to Nulwiz, report any anomalies.


    Reward: 850 gald.


    <div>


    Willow lowered the quest notice.


    If the Goddess was real, then she must have a particular sense of humor, because what were the odds that her party members were going to be these two?


    Sitting by the table, a familiar-looking man waved a greeting, a smirk barely parsing through that scruffy beard of his. He looked a lot more professional this time, dressed in a furry hunting vest and a short sword strapped to his back. His rough and gravelly voice spoke of a level of experience that no adventurer worth their mettle would dare dispute.


    "So you''re our fourth member? I remember you. Nose Fixer, right? Forgot ta thank ya for the heals last night. The missus back home would''ve been pissed if I returned with another scar on this handsome mug."


    Willow tried her hardest to ignore that ridiculous moniker of hers. Really tried. Relaxing her grip on her staff, she nodded. "Nothing still hurts, right?"


    "Yep!" A thumbs up. "Slept like a babe last night. The same can''t be said for her, though."


    The person on the other end of the table could easily be mistaken for an effeminate boy, what with her boy shorts and a pair of long socks, and a brown cloak that obscured her figure. But how could Willow forget? It was the same blue-haired wolf girl who threw up on her last night.


    She had her head down, cupping her wolf ears, groaning like the walking dead. From what Willow could see past her disheveled bangs, there were dark circles under her bloodshot eyes.


    "Can you keep it down...? This hangover is killing me..."


    "Heh. That''s what ya get for tryin'' ta drink more Salamander Wine than your own body weight, kid."


    "It was so good thouuugh..." With a low, pathetic whine, the wolf girl cradled her head in her arms and ran her wrists all over, as if trying to rub the headache away. Willow would''ve felt some sympathy for her...if not for the pint of beer pressed on her cheek like an ice bag.


    "...Beer for a hangover?" asked Willow.


    The wolf girl pointed a droopy finger toward the ceiling. "If it''s the drink that breaks me... then may it be the drink that fixes me..."


    "Amen, sister!" The man raised his tankard. "I drink to that."


    "Aye..." The wolf girl looked miserable and in pain as she, with a shaky hand, even dragging her face across the table, reached up to join her own tankard with his in a toast. But judging by the sordid grin on her face, there would be more questionable life choices from now on and into the future. She didn''t regret a damn thing.


    Willow skewered the man with a look.


    "No need ta look at me like that. Kid''s got [Poison Resistance]." Lifting his morning mead, he took a generous sip with a content sigh. "Saw her downing a big one before I sat down. Gotta say it''s nice ta have the guildhall to yourself." He gestured around, his voice having a little echo in the wide, empty room. "The other Dragon Tale branches are always packed like a house of chickens. You''d find boys fighting each other for jobs and the guild would do nothin'' about it. Here? Didn''t need ta wait a minute for my drink!"


    Most of the other parties were still resting or had already gone on another adventure. The few people present can be found bumming around, waiting for something interesting to happen. But on occasions, there''s always that one group who just needed an extra set of hands before they could get the guild''s approval.


    Like this sorry bunch of drunkards.


    Willow could only stand there with a palm to her face. It hadn''t been the start of the quest and her party members were already killing themselves with alcohol poisoning. Where''s Layla and her Gerald-taming fist when you needed her?


    She glanced toward the reception desks at one of the guild employees, asking with her eyes if these people were for real. The reception lady could only offer a weak smile.


    Resisting an insufferable sigh, she dragged her hand down to her collar and clutched it in quiet prayer. After a few deliberate breaths to calm herself, she looked between the two using one of her signature moves: [Resigned Retail Stare].


    Time to get to work.


    "We''re missing one more," Willow said. "Are they coming?"


    Willow prayed the fourth person stayed missing, if only so these walking disasters would return on a much more sober day. It''s not like she could leave. The guild assigned her this quest, and as part of the Support Corps, she''s required to help.


    "Don''t worry, he''s coming." The man lifted his fingers. "In three. Two. One..."


    Before Willow could wonder what he was doing, she heard the distant thuds of hurried footsteps, louder with each tick of the man''s count. Right when he would reach zero, the guildhall doors slammed open, reverberating throughout the building.


    Beer splashed all over the wolf girl''s face as she recoiled like she was slapped by the wind. An arm wrapped over her head, covering her ears, but the damage was done. She whimpered like she''s another foot in the grave.


    The last member of their party to-be was huffing, puffing, fresh from a long run.


    "I-I''m... I''m here!"


    The first thing Willow noticed was his boyish face juxtaposed with his stature. He was tall and well-built, as tall as the older man, she realized. The second thing she noticed was what he was carrying.


    The man grinned. "And there he is. Sit down, boy, we''re just about to introduce ourselves!"


    "Y-Yes! Of course! Sorry for being late. I just came back from gathering these." He placed down not one, not two, but three baskets of herbs and flowers, and some had almost fallen out from how much they piled up above the rim.


    Willow blinked. Blue Musky, Healing Bell Flowers, Thread Whistles... Some of the more common ingredients used by Alchemists. Did he spend all morning finding these? Most gatherers could only manage one full basket on a good day. How did...?


    When he sat down next to the older man, the entire table creaked. It was only then that Willow realized she''s the only one standing and so took her own seat beside the drunken wolf girl, using that moment to build a mental profile of the new arrival.


    A young man. Built like a farmhand. Dirty blonde hair seemed soft, as if freshly trimmed. Wore a hunting vest over shirt as well, but it seemed a little too small for him. Probably lived in a tight-knitted and carefree community near the countryside, closer toward the Holy Garden kingdom, judging by his soft, air-headed expression. It''s the kind of ''average'' background one would find anywhere.


    But all the way out here on the fringes? The way he came in also felt...


    "This here is Nikolas, our Shielder." The man slapped a hand over Nikolas''s shoulder, shaking it. "Kid may be a bit clumsy, dull as bronze, but trust me: he''s our lucky charm!"


    The words broke into Willow''s thoughts.


    Lucky charm?


    "Ya better believe it, ''cause he''s got a whoppin'' 38 luck in his Divine Glass!"


    Nikolas slouched in his seat, trying to appear small, as he let out an awkward laugh. Resigned, like he had heard this many times before.


    The wolf girl stopped mid-wipe of her sleeves, and a drop of alcohol dripped down her chin. "For real?"


    "For real. Brought ''im along as a favor, to show him the ropes. Don''t worry too much about him ''cause I taught ''im a few things while we were on the way here. And me?" He flicked a metal piece pinned on his vest. It sung the high-pitched jingle of gold. Anyone could tell that the sound demanded respect. "The name''s Markus. Gold-Ranked Swordsman. A pleasure."


    A mentor figure?


    "...Magni." There was an effort, but her face remain planted on the table. She gave a shaky peace sign. "Merchant."


    "Oho? Fancy one, I see. Ya shoot gald at goblins or somethin''?" Markus said playfully. "Why you hangin'' around with us poor, grimy folk?"


    "Eheh..." Magni giggled, sounding broken and, if Willow heard right, halfway toward breaking into a sob. "I wish I was half as rich as you think I am. Nope. This little wolf is in a spot of trouble."


    "Sounds rough, girl."


    "But one day!" Maybe it was the alcohol, but Magni raised her droopy finger again, as if struck by a Bard''s heart-pounding inspiration. "One day, I''ll be the fattest wolf of the streets around! Even the nobles will be eating out of my hand!" Said hand slowly slumped back into the table. "Just... Just need some starting capital... Ow, my head..."


    Willow felt an inexplicable sense of familiarity and unease. Why were they suddenly talking about their dreams and aspirations?


    "What about you?" Magni mumbled. "Why''d you leave retirement, old geezer?"


    "I''m not that old. Nikolas, tell ''er."


    Nikolas furrowed his brows. "...Weren''t you complaining about your back on the way here?"


    "C''mon, I was jokin''!" Markus smacked the Shielder''s broad back, which almost made the guy jump from his seat. "The Goddess isn''t so cruel to take away all that I''ve made for myself, kid! Ahahaha!"


    Willow wanted to be wrong. Wanted this to just be your every day annoying party quest. Because in that moment, she felt that she knew exactly what his next words were going to be.


    The Swordsman calmed down enough to wet his whistle and then proved her fears true.


    "Basically, the missus and I will be having a little one soon. Figured I should dust off my gold badge and earn enough to help us move further toward the Havenside Coast. Maybe toward the capital. Or somewhere in Holy Garden territory." He chuckled. "Let me tell ya. She did NOT approve. Had to make a hundred promises to make it back whole and hearty by next season. Good thing I never told her exactly where we were headed, huh?"


    "Well, um, I don''t have a big reason like either of you." Nikolas rubbed the back of his head, but there was no mistaking the tender, well-meaning smile on his face that came with what he said next. "I just wanted to work hard to support my little sister. She has a talent for magic, and will be enrolling in one of the Northern Magic Towers soon."


    "When she comes back ta the village a big shot wizard, you can BET I would ask her ta turn the backyard pond into Honeyrose mead. Me and the boys would swim in there buck naked, mhm!"


    And just like that, after wondering for so long if she missed the plot, the plot came around with the protagonist and a few Death Flags, knocking right on her door.


    "...Hey, Nose Fixer? Why do ya look so disturbed? The joke can''t be that bad."


    "Uncle Markus, the imagery might''ve been a bit..."


    "Maybe she ate something bad?"


    "The hell, girl? Since when did ya get another pint?!"


    <hr>


    The guild approved their quest in short order. Surprisingly, it was Magni who took initiative and dragged the whole group to show them something by the stables.


    When she''s not suffering from alcohol poisoning, she''s actually full of pep and presentation, the kind of flair expected of a Merchant.


    "Tada~!"


    It was a bird the size of a horse, whose golden beak shined like the sun and whose white plumage rivaled the clouds themselves. With its thick, scaly legs, it looked like it could run and carry its rider into the sunset. Like a giant, handsome chicken.


    Hooked to the avian mount was a carriage wagon, full of history and mystique, grace and opulence. Every chip at the engravings and every scratch at the wheels served as proof that it had seen many a journey. It came in two parts: a room for seats and cushions, and a back where goods were stored. With a cool roof above and its wideness relative to its length, the comfort of the passengers won''t be found wanting.The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Magni skipped along the hay and posed between them, sweeping her arms with sparkles practically in her eyes. "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to my wagon! We''ll be riding this along the road to Nulwiz, and if we''re lucky, we could finish this quest by today!"


    Willow, Markus, and Nikolas were in object awe¡ª


    ¡ªuntil one of the wheels popped out.


    "Crap, crap, crap, crap¡ª!" Magni tried to stop the carriage from tilting over, having to brace with her whole body before it was steady again. "I just had that fixed yesterday! H-hang on a sec..."


    Markus hurriedly stepped up. "Let me help with that!"


    "Sheesh, lady." Markus gave the carriage a quick once over and winced. "Ya live like this? My grandma''s older than this thing. Did ya mess with the debt collectors or somethin''?"


    Willow wondered the same thing. It was a common assumption to make. Here in the Rosarium Kingdom, debt collectors were the prime predators of all capitalistic interests. Under the authority and political might of the Halos Alliance, the kingdom had been forced to crack down on corruption and financial loop holes. Any merchant who used debt as an excuse to reduce their taxes and delayed paying it off was forced to pay the entire debt effective immediately for the good of mankind.


    Officially, at least.


    Unofficially, this only applied to independent merchants without connections with the upper nobility. As far as Willow heard, many suspect that the nobles at the capital city running the show saw it as a prime opportunity to wipe the competition off the board, using the impetus of the Halos Alliance as justification.


    It was such a big, ongoing incident that Bards made at least a dozen renditions of the story across an entire month, even out here in Risadel.


    If the hardworking man of Rosarium didn''t hate the nobility before, they certainly do now.


    The hairs of Magni''s tail went rigid. "It''s not my fault¡ªmy old man forgot to pay the monthly dues before he croaked!" While Nikolas held the carriage up, Magni circled around back and grabbed a hammer, before smacking the wheel into the axle. "And¡ªhup! And nobody! Can access! His inheritance! Until at least! Another! Year!"


    One last swing, and the wheel''s back in place.


    "Phew!" Magni swiped the sweat off her brow and dropped the hammer without a care. "At least I kept his bird and the wagon..."


    It was a haphazard fix more than anything, but that wasn''t what Willow was worried about.


    She kept a few steps back, keeping a real close eye on the avian mount. There''s a light of intelligence in its eyes, and she rode enough caravans to know that trouble wasn''t far.


    "I''ve never seen a carriage bird like this one before. What''s its name?" Nikolas reached out to pet it...


    "Don''t touch him," Magni said. "Sven here is a Humblewing."


    ...and was instantly pulled away.


    Willow barely saw the movement. In a split second, Markus had grabbed Nikolas and leapt back at least three meters, dragging the young man''s feet. The whiplash was so sudden that Nikolas still had his hand outstretched before he let out a dumbfounded croak, not realizing what he had almost done.


    Despite the sudden move, the beast didn''t seem the slightest bit startled. It just snorted instead, looking down on them.


    The Swordsman''s face was taut, broken out in a cold sweat. "Humblewing... Did I hear that right?"


    Humblewing: as in, "down-to-earth", a roundabout way of saying it was THE flightless bird of flightless birds. But they''re anything but humble; they''re bastards, as proud as sin, and were notorious for holding grudges for life. There had been cautionary tales of a man who was chased to the ends of Crescelias for daring to spit upon a Humblewing''s beak, shared between Beast Tamers as a reminder to never, ever, underestimate them again.


    "Relaaax," Magni drawled. "They''re not as bad as the rumors make them out to be. They''re not stupid, either. As long as you show proper respect, he''ll behave. Especially with me around. Isn''t that right, Sven?"


    Magni stroke under the avian mount''s beak. But Sven looked more annoyed than pleased with the attention, rolling his eyes like she''s being a bother.


    "Okay..." Markus looked half ready for a fight for his life, pulling Nikolas behind him. "I don''t think he likes that."


    "Nah~! That''s just how he is." The girl was all smiles as she continued to pamper the beast. "Sven always likes the attention. My old man and I do this all the time."


    "If you say so...?" Markus was hardly convinced. It was only after about a minute of Magni''s pampering, with nothing happening, that he eventually sighed and relaxed. "I''ll never get you Merchants..."


    Willow relaxed, too, seeing the more experienced adventurer signal the okay. Still, it left one really important question, and she asked, "Are you sure you have him under control? It''ll be a long road."


    "Heh." Magni puffed up her chest. "Of course I''m sure. Sven and I are like two chicks in an egg, two goblins in a hole, two sailors on a boat, two¡ª"


    Nom.


    Everyone stared at where Magni''s head disappeared to.


    "Sven. H-hey, Sven?" Her voice echoed under the bird''s beak. "We talked about this. You''re making me look uncool in front of our new friends. Sven?"


    Their ride won''t be ready for at least another while, it seemed.


    Willow sighed. Turning to Markus and Nikolas, she nodded out toward Risadel''s streets. "I''ll be out to buy a few things. If you need to suit up, now''s your chance."


    "Don''t mind if we do," Markus slurred, and he burped. "C''mon, Nikolas. The guild should have your new gear ready. Let Nose Fixer do her thing."


    "R-Right..."


    Willow didn''t go right away. She let her gaze linger on the retreating duo, particularly on the young man who was breaking out into the big, wide world. And frowned.


    While Magni was desperately struggling in the background, Willow calculated the expenses and plotted the contingencies. It would hurt her finances and could just be another fit of paranoia. But if she''s right? It''s a small price to pay.


    Because someone might die today.


    <hr>


    Today was his first real quest. It was almost surreal for Nikolas to think about.


    The wagon ride was surprisingly smooth and pleasant, despite the rough start. They kept the wheel from falling out thanks to an ''adhesive salve'' that the White Mage brought. Said it should last for the whole day.


    Magni was outside driving and Markus sat beside her as a lookout; a show of muscle, in case anyone thought of doing anything funny. In the back, it was just him and the White Mage.


    Just sitting there.


    In silence.


    Her eyes were on the road trailing behind them, where the walls of Risadel got shorter and the Dragon Tale guildhall on the hill got smaller. Nikolas, sensing she wanted to be left alone, was staring into a dusty corner of the wagon.


    But sometimes, he''d feel a sharp gaze stabbing his back.


    There was just that... narrowed focus in her eyes, like she''s ready to kill something.


    He gulped.


    The White Mage didn''t like him.


    Nikolas was almost certain of it.


    He had heard the Dragon Tale guild''s branches closest to the Evil Lake weren''t too kind toward Bronze-rank beginners. Adventuring in the front lines against mankind''s sworn enemy was a life that could kill lesser men, even on a good day. Unless you proved how tough and capable you were, you''re treated like dead weight.


    Nikolas wasn''t blind to the Silver badge pinned to her cloak. Nor was he ignorant of the fact that, as a White Mage of the Support Corps, she''s obligated to baby-sit and watch over weaker adventurers like himself so they didn''t get themselves killed. She probably saw him as a nuisance.


    As a long-time adventurer whose only experience was the smallest, safest jobs on the board, never allowed to take on anything dangerous because of his mother''s insistence, he would be the first to admit his own inadequacy.


    He''s clumsy. He''s unsure of himself. Favored by the Goddess or not, he accomplished nothing of worth on his own. He could never be so vain that a high luck stat meant he was anyone special. He knew that.


    But he couldn''t give up.


    He''s the only man left to help support his family right now.


    Nikolas tugged at his chest plate, fiddled with the buckler shield, each issued by the Halos Alliance. They felt too small on him, but he knew he won''t be getting anything better soon.


    Little Nicole needed money to pay for the Magic Tower''s tuition. Her future was on the line.


    And his mother... She''s sick, needed medicine to survive the coming winter. Markus''s wife, Kyaeris bless her, was taking care of her right now. Even with a baby coming along, Aunt Haydee still proved to be as strong as a Sailor of the Evil Lake.


    Everyone at the Dragon Tale guild branch from his hometown always complimented how he and her sister could easily find and gather herbs, know all the best spots, and when they would grow. They''d carry entire baskets each week, and when they''re not, they''d busy themselves either helping neighbors with farm work or counting the gald they earned, boasting about what toys and trinkets they would buy from the next traveling merchant.


    But those simpler times were gone. It''s just him now. Menial labor and gathering quests just weren''t enough.


    Markus understood his feelings and had helped convinced his mother to let him go on this journey. That''s when Nikolas opened the Divine Glass and finally chose his Class after almost a three-year delay since his eighteenth birthday, and became a Shielder. It was the only option given to him, like it was his destiny.


    He had fought a few small slimes under Uncle Markus''s guidance, but nothing as real and living as goblins. To mercilessly take the life of a living being... It''s scary. The girls might laugh at him, but the thought made him squeamish inside.


    Even now, he was still coming to terms with the newfound strength of his Class. But when the time came, could he really swallow the hardship? The humiliation?


    Nikolas was content with the silence. He needed to build up the nerve.


    But then...


    "This is too quiet." Magni broke the silence with all the subtlety of a war band of Barbarians. "Isn''t this the part where we share our adventure stories? To pass the time?"


    "Oh, what''s this?" Markus smirked. "Sounds like you''ve got a story you''re dying to tell. Care to share with the caravan?"


    "Uuum... M-Maybe another time."


    "Hah! Well, don''t worry about it. ''Cause I, Markus, esteemed Flying Sword of the Rosarium Wilds, will regale ya with the tale of how I felled a wandering pack of wyverns and saved the current Queen of Rosarium!"


    "Now you''re just full of it," Magni deadpanned. "Never mind. Forget I said anything."


    "Tch. Nobody want''s to hear that story..."


    Markus looked over his shoulder, and Nikolas felt his heart leap to his throat when the man addressed the White Mage at the back.


    "What about you, Nose Fixer? Bet ya seen many interesting things, fixin'' up so many guys after a bar fight."


    "...No comment."


    A cold response.


    The three waited for anything else, but no.


    That was all.


    "...Bah." If an old man could look pouty, then Markus pulled it off. "No fun, that one. Guess we have no choice. You''re up, Merchant."


    "Oh, come on! Why me?"


    Nikolas chuckled despite himself as the two squabbled, feeling the anxiety step off of him. Uncle Markus always joked around, and you could always count on him to cut the tension away with just a few words. The Merchant was so friendly and lively, breathing color into the caravan with her reactions alone. Maybe it''s a bit mean to say, but she always seemed to brighten the mood with her over-the-top pathetic-ness.


    "For what it''s worth," Nikolas said, "I don''t have anything to share either, so¡ª"


    Markus snapped his head toward him so fast, he swore he heard bone crack.


    "Markus?! What¡ª?!"


    "Don''t you ''what'' me! That ain''t true! You''re always going on and on about your little sister, bragging about how great she is!"


    "That''s because she is¡ª! Ah." Nikolas saw the smug grin on Uncle Markus''s face and knew he had been had.


    "Oho~!" Magni had a hand over lips like she heard the most scandalous thing. Taking the opportunity for what it was, she made like a true wolf and capitalized on it. "She''s getting enrolled in the Northern Magic Towers, right? Tell us about her."


    "Yeah, ''Kolas. Tell us."


    In the corner of his eye, even Willow had tilted her head their way in interest.


    Nikolas rubbed the back of his neck. Feeling outnumbered, he couldn''t help but relent.


    "Little Nicole... Well, I guess she''s not so little anymore. She''s starting out as a Mage, chose her Class earlier than most. Even when we were little, she knew what she wanted be. Sometimes she would say things I wouldn''t understand, things that I never even heard of. But I guess that''s how she became the boss of us whenever we went out for herb gathering."


    Markus snorted. "What he didn''t mention was when he jumped into a bush of poisonous ivy one time," he said, ignoring the squawk of protest from Nikolas. "Stayed red and itchy for days. His mother decided that Little Nicole would be the responsible one from then on. Oh, how that brat held it over him, hehe..."


    Magni giggled. "Sounds like a real smarty pants."


    Despite his embarrassment, Nikolas couldn''t help the proud smile that spread across his lips.


    "Yes. She is. Back in our hometown, she''s the smartest girl we know, nose-deep in her books and showing off what she knew. We''ve always told her she can do anything if she put her mind to it. We knew she was special. But we never knew how special until, one day, a traveling mage visited our village and asked to see her Status."


    Nikolas still remembered that moment. The moment when they all learned about how amazing a mana stat of 21, at such a young age and without training, was actually supposed to be. A rare talent seen only in one in a million people. It was the most difficult stat to raise after luck, after all. Ordinary people averaged a mana of 10, and may only reach up to around 30-40 in a lifetime.


    "A potential Grand. Could you believe it?"


    "Wait, hold on, hold on. A Grand!?" Magni looked back at Markus, who nodded in affirmation.


    It was a title given only to the pinnacle of one''s class. They had the power to live in their own terms, contesting the power of entire kingdoms. The Grand Mages of old were also the founders and creators of the Magic Tower, which was how the Collegium of the north and the Unitezlan of the south gained independence as sovereign nations.


    They''re talking about someone who could make it to the history books! His little sister!


    "Yeah, a real prodigy," Nikolas continued. "Nicole had an affinity for water. The traveler got her in through a letter of recommendation. ''The second coming of Anel the Waterfall'', she said. And after that, well," his smile turned strained, "we kept in touch through letters ever since. Last I heard, she finished her placements exams and was going up the ranks even before getting officially enrolled. Something about a workshop? She''s in the top 250. I think she''s aiming for a spot in one of the, uh, Seats of Valor?"


    Magni perked up. "Seats of Valor?"


    "Even I know this one," Markus said. "Used to party with a mage who graduated from the Collegium. Anyone who sits on one of the 24 seats will have the love of the entire Collegium; get first pick of any lecture or class they want, and dibs on anything they''d need. Most end up in the same classes anyway, so they''re called the S-Class. Even if it''s only for a single semester, you would be set for life."


    "I think I remember now," Magni murmured. "My old man once said those guys didn''t have a lick of common sense. Complete monsters, he called them. At least they are where the money is at. But, wait..." Magni scratched a tuft of hair below her ear. "Aren''t all the spots taken? How could she get in?"


    "There is one."


    Everyone looked toward the back.


    For the first time since the ride, the White Mage had turned to face them, engaged with the conversation.


    "W-What do you mean?" Nikolas asked.


    "Every year, the Seats are initially given based on a student''s academic rank and contributions. But there''s a massive gulf between those in the top ten and those at eleven and below. The members between the 11th and 24th Seats are always shifting. Sometimes, someone would fail to keep up or be forced to graduate. It just so happens that the 21st Seat has been made vacant this year."


    "Huh. Convenient." Magni''s eyes were on the road, but her wolf ears swiveled about. "Are you enrolled?"


    "...I was."


    The White Mage turned quiet after that. Her near-permanent glare melted away, leaving behind a softness that made Nikolas realize how small she actually was.


    Nikolas caught himself staring and pretended to cough. The sudden quiet felt awkward, so he blurted out loud the first thing he thought. "Oh! Then Nicole would definitely make it to S-Class! If it''s her, she''ll¡ª!"


    The other three were looking at him funny.


    Realizing how ridiculous he must sound, he felt heat rush up his neck as he laughed to himself and said, "right, what am I saying? I should be proud enough that she made it to¡ª"


    "She will."


    "...Huh?"


    It didn''t come from Markus. Nor from Magni.


    "If she''s rising as fast as you say she is, she may receive the offer by the next yearly cycle. Even if she didn''t, there are still more chances if she''s aiming for a four-year Adept''s Accreditation or an eight-year Master''s. Besides," the White Mage looked him in the eye, "you''re the good luck charm, right? Since you believe she will, then she will."


    It was like there wasn''t a doubt in her mind.


    "Hah!" Markus barked. "She got ya there, kid!"


    The ride grew a lot noisier after that. The moment the White Mage spoke, it was like they got permission to goof off and became a whole different party.


    Making up stories.


    Sharing advice.


    Cracking jokes.


    Nikolas had completely forgotten that they''re on a goblin extermination quest, that lives were on the line. He found himself comforted by the thought that, as a child favored by the Goddess and so long as he believed in it, his family would be fine. He will be fine.


    ...Maybe the White Mage isn''t so bad, after all.

 003

    <div>


    The goblin itched its butt, waiting. Always waiting. Always for nothing. It was just hanging around a tree along with one of its brethren, and its job was to warn the nest of incoming threats or greet their friendlies.


    They would build their nests hidden deep in the forest, then send hunters who would camp somewhere near the roads, far enough away from the light of civilization so their victims couldn''t find help.


    It was a crude but clever enough plan that it could work¡ªif this were hundreds of years ago. No, mankind had long since grown wise to their methods. Even the most elementary traveler knew at least a thing or two to defend themselves against goblins.


    The evil goblins would lose more than they would gain, killed in droves long before they could touch a grown adult. Children could hold their own long enough to get help, or, blessed by the Divine Glass, win the fight themselves.


    If they just waited, spawned more of their own kind, and hid in their holes until the time was right, they might overwhelm the good people of Rosarium. But there were mainly two reasons this never happened.


    First, goblins did not have the patience for it. For all their ability to organize and concoct schemes, it would all fall apart to their own short-term greed.


    Which was why, even though it was supposed to keep watch, it abandoned its post just to take a leak. Took its sweet time, too, and not a thought was spared for the eeriness of the quiet nor the shadows that moved along the bushes.


    When the goblin returned, it found its brethren slumped against the tree.


    The goblin rolled its eyes, thinking it took a nap. It stepped back into its spot and then¡ª


    "Gaaaaaah!"


    ¡ªa rock punctured its shoulder.


    It spun, tripped on its own two feet, and hit the tree, almost landing on the injury. With deep, sniveling gasps, it ran harder than it ever had in its life.


    Through tall grass. Past the marked trees. Into the bushes barricaded with sticks.


    It needed to escape. It needed to rally the others. It needed to¡ª


    It stopped.


    In the solitary camp, surrounding a smothered pit of fire were the stiff bodies of all eight of its brethren. Parts of their heads were missing.


    The second reason: they were routinely exterminated en masse, like weeds in the yard. Search teams would find and mark their nests on a map, then the extermination teams would cull their numbers in one fell swoop. It was quick, efficient, ensured no survivors, and left no time for the goblins to repopulate.


    Normally, a single party wouldn''t be enough to kill all the goblins so quickly, so quietly...


    But a Gold-ranked adventurer?


    The goblin took a step back...


    "Wrong way, pal."


    There was a flash of steel.


    The goblin never had the chance to scream.


    <hr>


    Markus stood over the corpse. He swung his sword arm, and the blood removed itself from the blade, joining the bleeding bodies in the dirt. He clicked his tongue.


    "Gotten rusty... Guess it''s back to the basics for me," he muttered.


    Only three years in retirement, settling down with his wife, and oh, how the mighty had fallen. His old drinking buddies would laugh if they saw him now.


    The rest of the party emerged from the bushes: Willow, then Nikolas, and then Magni¡ªwho had to pause just to tug the reins on her Humblewing, Sven. That such a big bird could remain hidden somehow was one of the many mysteries of its kind.


    "Guess all that drinking this morning slowed you down, old man," Magni said. "Are you a lightweight?"


    "Brat, I''ll have you know that my 31 constitution stat can still drink you under the table! Anyway, ya see what I mean, Nikolas? You got the bigger arms, so use ''em. Even a few stones could do the job."


    The girls didn''t seem bothered by the grisly sight. They had probably seen much worse than this, so that''s good.


    Nikolas, though...


    The Shielder covered his nose, struggling to keep his composure. "U-ugh, that smell... Are they always...?"


    "Yeah..." Magni was trying her very best to keep Sven from just wandering off. "I heard goblins use the stench of their dead to track down weakened prey or run away from danger. You''d have to be a huge freak to let yourself get covered in their guts."


    Oh? Did the Nose Fixer just flinch?


    "Believe me, it could get much worse," Markus said, deciding to rag on her later. "We better get ready. By now, the camps nearby should know we''re here. Nose Fixer, how many are there?"


    The White Mage closed her eyes with her brittle staff pressed to the ground. Markus was amazed the dingy thing was even working, what with the dents along the crystal receptacle and the broken bit extended with a metal shard at the end.


    For the entire way, she had been periodically sending pulses of mana through the ground. Said she''s sensing the monsters through the "echoes" that come back. Sounded like something certain beastkin and elves would do. It''s not even a Skill. A form of [Mana Manipulation], then?


    She opened her eyes.


    "Twelve incoming. No unusual signs, just regular goblins."


    Very useful, this one. Maybe a bit of overkill against goblins, but he could respect her for being thorough. Every party with a pair of eyes would beg to have her in their team. With how the Halos Alliance''s ordinance and the conscription to the Support Corps worked, she could join her favorite pick to avoid these unflattering goblin hunting jobs, then hang around until the rules loosened up.


    So why hadn''t she?


    Well, it''s none of his business.


    Markus patted Nikolas on the back. "Ya heard the Nose Fixer. This will be simple and easy. Lure them into this camp, then just do what I''ve shown ya. You''ll be fine."


    Nikolas tore his eyes away from the dead goblins and nodded. "I understand."


    "Heh. Then get goin'', we don''t have all day."


    "Right!"


    And so, with his shield in hand, the boy who had never harmed a warm-blooded thing in his life began marching off to become a bona fide Goblin Slayer. He looked strangely mature, more sure of himself, with his determined eyes and straightened back.


    Markus smirked to himself, a certain conversation back in the wagon coming to mind.


    "Don''t think I forgot about you, Merchant. You and the bird are welcome to join him," he said.


    Magni beamed, her tail wagging.


    He knew a lot of boys with that same look: excited as a puppy, eager to prove herself.


    "Well, don''t mind if we do!" Then the blue-haired wolf girl just did the darnedest thing. She skipped to the Humblewing''s side and hopped right on its back like a common burden beast, as if the murderous bird wouldn''t tear her to shreds until next week for the transgression. She pointed, like a Hero on her noble steed, and shouted, "Let''s go, Sven! Onward!"


    And Sven...


    ...just sat down.


    "Sveeeen!"


    He didn''t bother holding it back; he guffawed like a wheezing chicken.


    Nose Fixer, though, looked less than impressed. Watching Magni struggle and seeing Nikolas go into the forest alone, she scoffed.


    "I may as well make sure he doesn''t lose an eye or something."


    Markus still had a hand on his knees, wiping the tears out of his eyes. "A-Awfully morbid, aren''t ya? The boy had crushed a slime before, so this should be nothin''."


    "...Just doing my job. Consider it a part of Risadel''s hospitality."


    Girl''s got a good head on her shoulders. Now if only she got rid of that stick up her ass...


    The following fight couldn''t even be called that. The goblins just charged in with their sticks and stones and threw themselves at the Shielder. His form was sloppy, too much wasted movement, but he did exactly as he was taught, using his larger stature to bash their heads against his shield before they could lay a finger on him. Nikolas won the battle without the White Mage ever needing to do a thing.


    "I... did it!" Nikolas was cheering. "I actually did it¡ªurp!"


    Then the stench hit. Poor kid was on his knees, retching out his breakfast.


    Willow sighed. Even Markus started to understand.


    This was going to be a looong day...


    <hr>


    The sun had since gone past its zenith.


    They settled into a kind of rhythm after a while. Markus would find their tracks, Willow would count their numbers and gauge the danger, while Magni would always try, but fail, to get her Humblewing to join in the fight. What few injuries the Shielder sustained, the White Mage would heal.


    Markus would coach Nikolas, letting him fight on his own, and only intervene if he went too deep and got swarmed. And as for Magni?


    "Ugh. This sucks. The absolute worst..." Magni was whining as they finished the stragglers, crouching down with a knife in her hand to cut off the goblin ears, before shoving them into a sack. "I''m going to feel the stink for days..."


    "Hah!" he barked. "Welcome to the real world, Merchant!"


    He regulated her into looting and porter duty. The murder bird refused to listen to her, and a potential liability like that was left to guard the wagon instead, much to the Merchant''s dismay.


    When they''re done with eliminating all the nearby nests, they would come back to the wagon to ride down the road to find the next ones.


    In the meantime, Markus learned some important things about his party members. Besides all the jokes and byplay, it''s only proper to get a read on those he''s working with.


    Nikolas was Nikolas. Too green, too timid, too driven. Needed to slow down and take the proper steps. He thinks the world of his family. This quest just might be the push he needed to do great things with that ridiculous luck stat of his. Still working on him.


    Magni was a weakling and a screw-up; he already lost count of the number of stray goblins that escaped his senses and almost got the drop on her. Was her luck in the negatives, or something? Thankfully, the White Mage was around to watch her back. The wolf girl, at least, wasn''t afraid to get involved in the messy stuff.


    Though the less said about that murderous bird of hers, the better.


    Willow, the White Mage... It''s hard to pin her personality down. She keeps sending mixed signals, distant one minute and then a motherhen in the next. Breaks formation too often. Maybe a bad habit? Hard to tell.


    One thing was certain: she''s wary. Too wary. Like she''s always expecting something to go wrong. There were times she seemed tempted to leap into the fray whenever Nikolas got even a little overwhelmed. Hell, even when they confirmed the kills, she''s still pulsing mana into the ground, always on the lookout.


    Girl should learn to relax.


    Then again, Markus thought, it could be the boy''s luck at work.


    Don''t think he didn''t notice the intense looks toward Nikolas. The adults back at the village always joked about how all the ladies used to fawn over him. Kid had the sort of vibe that made women feel protective of him.


    Oh, they''ll be fun to tease. Maybe after a few more adventures, they''d bond over how they used to kill goblins together, and it would bloom into something more. Wouldn''t that be a riot? It sounded crazy, but he had seen adventurers hook up over less.


    The entire party made for a decent extermination team, annihilating every goblin nest that was marked on their map and then some.


    But that there''s the problem...


    "That makes twelve... thirteen nests?" Markus wiped the sweat from his brow, looking at the dead bodies scattered all over. This one had eighteen goblins, then the ones nearby came along and made it thirty-two. "We''re not even halfway done with the ones marked on the map, and we''re still findin'' unmarked goblin nests. What''s goin'' on?"


    There shouldn''t be this many if the guild was doing its job keeping the roads clean. These were goblins, not lake monsters. Unless...


    The White Mage noticed his expression. "Demontide?"


    Markus nodded grimly. "Demontide. We might have ourselves a monster spawner out here."


    The enemies of mankind come not only from the Evil Lake. Every so often, escaping the eyes of the Dragon Tale guild, patches of Demontide would emerge throughout the continent. It would corrupt everything it touched, turning its surroundings into malignant dens of ichor. And from the corruption, monsters would spawn.


    He held up his old sword, which was slick with blood, and scowled. Admittedly, he never properly cared for it after he retired, and so the edges had gotten rusty and brittle. Looked more like a serrated edge with so many bits missing. The enchantment that usually kept it whole and healthy had long since faded.


    "Ah, shit... Had I been scammed?" he muttered. "Guy said it would last at least another few decades."


    Could''ve been the family heirloom; maybe serve as a decoration on the wall, a story to tell, but it won''t live past this adventure, huh?


    Willow eyed the sword. "Need a [Reinforcement]?"


    "...Nah. Save it. Bet ya wasted enough mana bein'' our lookout. I can just throw rocks and use my bare hands if I have to."


    "That''s..."


    "Rule number one: worry about yourself first." Markus put a bit more force into his words. He had seen too many healers just like her get themselves killed trying too much. The Support Corps may be a recent thing, but with the way it was set up, he knew enough to know that it''s a meat grinder. This was something she needed to take to heart if she wanted to survive. "I may have been retired, but don''t look down on a Gold rank. Just help me watch over Nikolas and Magni like always, yeah?"


    Willow''s eyes sharpened.


    Did he hurt her pride somewhere? Well, tough.


    Markus held the gaze for a little while. Frowning, she looked away. He took her silence as tacit agreement to let the issue go.


    "But what do we do now?" Magni asked. "This isn''t just another elimination quest anymore."


    Nikolas, who was wiping the blood off his shield with the tall grass, tensed. "But we...can''t just leave this alone, right?"


    Markus hummed. "That''s a good question. Pull out the map for a minute."


    The Merchant, being the porter, obliged. From one of her pockets, she pulled out the map that came with the quest notice. She laid it flat on the ground, and everyone crowded around.


    "Where are we?" Markus asked.


    "Uuum..." Magni pointed at a spot along the road. "About here. An hour before the half-way point toward Nulwiz."


    "Anywhere past the half-way point is Nulwiz''s jurisdiction. There are no settlements anywhere near here, and certainly none near Risadel." He paused, thinking. "We''ve gathered more than enough goblin ears to get the full reward and prove there''s a monster spawner nearby. But it would be a shame to leave so soon. You two need the experience."


    Nikolas nodded in acceptance, relaxed now that he knew people wouldn''t be endangered, while Magni chuckled mirthlessly. She hadn''t been much help.


    "So how about this?" Markus smirked. "Three more nests. We''ll get as much as we can get done, then we return in time for supper. You guys with¡ª?"


    "I''m afraid not."


    The White Mage had stood up. Her gaze was cold and hard, facing the deeper parts of the forest.


    "Sheesh, a mutiny already? I expected better from you, Nose Fixer¡ª"


    "Shush!" she hissed. "Don''t you feel it?"


    Then he listened.


    Were he any lesser adventurer, he would''ve missed the slight trembling of the ground, the strange silence of the trees. Immediately, he was back on his feet with a firm grip on his sword. Nikolas and Magni, sensing the sudden mood, followed suit.


    "How many?" he asked.


    "Too many. Three big signatures... No, four? We need to go," she said. "Now."


    Markus knew right then and there that this girl might''ve just saved their lives.


    As party leader, he gave the order. "No time to waste! Let''s go!"


    Magni didn''t need to be told twice. She scooped up the map and kicked off while shoving it into her pockets. Nikolas almost stumbled on his own feet before Markus grabbed him by the collar and pushed him ahead.


    Markus and Willow were running side by side. It took a moment for the party leader to realize that she''s doing the same thing as he was: making sure the newbies were right in front of them, never to be left behind.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    "Mind telling us why we''re running?!" Magni gasped. "What''s even happening?!"


    "The stench attracted an entire horde! We''ll be surrounded if we stick around! When we get back to the wagon, tell your bird to just move it¡ª!"


    From the sky above, he heard a sound he never thought he would ever hear again.


    Eyes wide, he shouted, "Hide behind something and get down!"


    The destruction came like thunder.


    An explosion rocked the earth, the shock passing through the party as if a giant had swung a club at their backs. A plume of leaves, rock, and dirt shot up into the air. They were almost tossed out of cover; Magni had been too late out before Willow pulled her face into the bark of a tree.


    When the ringing in his ears stopped and he was confident the coast was clear, Markus raised his head, ignoring how a branch and some leaves stuck to him like a wig. He looked back and saw a crater where they once stood, the epicenter still burning red, like it had come from hell itself.


    "Head count! Everyone alive?"


    "Present."


    "Just a little shaken up, Uncle."


    "I-I think I got dirt up my nose... What even was that?"


    "Good, good..." Markus pushed the fallen branch off his head. "Don''t stop moving. There''s more where that¡ª"


    The distant snapping of trees. The humming of the wind. This time, it wasn''t coming from the sky.


    The Swordsman''s body moved on its own. His instincts, honed by the wilds of Rosarium, summoned the mana that had remained dormant for years, flowing into his blade to intercept what was coming.


    It met the flat of his blade, but in that split second, he realized the sword would break first before it could deflect the object away from his party. So he adjusted his grip, pushed his legs and...


    "Aaarggh!"


    ...caught the boulder with his shoulder.


    The world blurred.


    His back exploded with pain once, twice, thrice¡ªlosing count as he struck through at least a dozen trees like a bullet before burrowing into the last one.


    Markus coughed, literally stuck between a rock and a hard place. Rather than a boulder, it seemed more like a collection of rocks melted together. It was huge, about as big as he was tall, and he could feel the heat that seared it together. If it weren''t for his constitution, he would''ve been squished into a red paste.


    He tried to push it off, but it won''t budge. Not enough leverage. Damage was worse than he thought. Entire arm might be crushed underneath. It would explain why he''s all numb down there.


    "Uncle Markus!" Nikolas was the first to find him. His eyes were frantic. "Everyone! He''s over here! A-And he''s hurt!"


    "Kid...?"


    "Hang on, I''ll get this off of you!" Nikolas threw his entire weight against the boulder. "Come on! Come on...!"


    Magni was next. "Old man!"


    Had they fanned out just to find where he had landed? Precious minutes were being wasted, and the trembles were growing stronger.


    Markus coughed, thick saliva clogging up his throat. "I would''ve been fine. Y''all should''ve just gone!"


    "Yeah, sorry!" Magni said. "Not my policy to neglect the elderly!"


    "Oh, for¡ª! I''m only in my mid-thirties!"


    "Can''t hear you! Too busy trying to save your life!" Magni ran around trying to find a spot in the tree where the boulder could be nudged loose. She braced her back against the bark and pushed with her legs, but the damn thing was perfectly lodged in there, along with half of Markus''s body. "Urk! Is it even moving?!"


    Damn it. To think he would be done in like this. Things would''ve been different had he gotten better equipment, a better sword.


    Or...had he been complacent? Got too satisfied with himself and stopped too soon?


    Maybe with what little time they had left, they could...


    But that hope was dashed by the sound of whistling from above. Many, many sounds. Like a symphony of mockery.


    He tried to shout, to tell them to get away. But the more he tried to speak, something was climbing up his esophagus to silence him. Why, dammit?! Why, why, why¡ª!?


    "[Barrier]!"


    The White Mage arrived in the nick of time as a translucent wall encircled the party.


    The tree nearby: obliterated. Nothing but saw dust. Then hell rained down on them.


    Stones mowed through the trees and ripped the stumps out of the earth. Dust and dirt and decay splattered against the White Mage''s spell, digging into the barrier from the sheer force of the ruptures like shrapnel. But those were just the lucky few that missed.


    One struck the barrier, and the White Mage winced. There was another hit, but this time she dug her heels and pushed more mana through the staff, manifesting another layer. It was thick yet viscous, like a soft outer shell, and it took the brunt of the volley again and again, like a window against the hail.


    Five seconds.


    Ten seconds.


    Twenty.


    Thirty.


    For fifty long, hellish seconds, they were under fire, blinded by the clouds of dust.


    And just as soon as it came, it stopped.


    What once had been a healthy part of the forest was now the ruins of a clearing. The dust parted, revealing the naked sky and the White Mage''s barrier completely covered in cracks.


    She fell to her knees with a gasp. No more mana.


    With many of the trees gone, the horde came into sight.


    Goblins, hundreds of them, bled through the forest, blotting the scenery like weeds. Some of them were carrying spears, bows, helmets, and armor¡ªall splotched in pitch black, dripping in Demontide. And behind them were three giants, marching in heavy, earth-trembling footsteps.


    Ogres.


    Magni had turned pale. "Shit..."


    Yeah. Shit.


    Markus felt dizzy. There''s another ringing in his ears. Something warm was flowing down the back of his head. He could hardly think clearly anymore.


    But at the very least, he still knew the right thing to do...


    "Forget it... Y''all need to run."


    "What?" Nikolas shook his head in disbelief. "No... Uncle Markus, we can''t!"


    "Yes, you can!"


    "W-What about Aunt Haydee?! What about¡ª?!"


    Markus howled. "What are ya, deaf?! I said run¡ª!"


    "[Featherlight]."


    A shadow hovering above them interrupted their argument.


    He heard Nikolas and Magni gasp. For a moment, he thought the horde was already upon them. But then he realized the weight over him was suddenly gone.


    One ogre raised its hand, seeing what''s coming long before Markus could process what''s happening. It tried to catch it, but it was too fast.


    The boulder smashed into the ogre''s head right before the Swordsman''s disbelieving eyes.


    <hr>


    It was a common trope, both for its narrative momentum and expositive convenience.


    Whenever the Hero went on a journey, they needed a Mentor to guide the way. They would teach the Hero all they needed to know to overcome their future challenges, and once the Mentor served their purpose, they''re removed from the story. Sometimes they come back. Sometimes they stayed dead.


    Maybe it would''ve worked out in the end. Maybe Markus would''ve survived, or maybe Nikolas would''ve unlocked some hidden, special powers and save the day like the protagonist he was meant to be. A chance that it would all be alright.


    But she hated leaving things to chance.


    Every time they finished an encounter, every time they entered anywhere close to resembling a boss arena, she would send out pulses of mana. Scanning. Waiting. Watching. All to catch the moment where everything went wrong.


    Funny. After agonizing over so many maybes for so long, she decided to just derail the whole thing the moment the plot came. It was the stupidest she had ever felt in both of her lives.


    The empty mana potion shattered on the ground.


    Mana ran hot in her veins, flowing through her tendons. The [Reinforcement] spell was not meant for a person of blood and flesh, so she had to use a quick and dirty modification. It was crude, inelegant, and, above all, inefficient. A real Mage would froth at the mouth at what she''s doing, but it was enough for her purposes.


    "[Featherlight]."


    Everyone stared slack-jawed as Willow raised a broken tree with one hand.


    The ogres stopped marching. The headless corpse of one of their own reminded them of what she could do. The goblins, however, just kept going, swinging their crude weapons, snarling like savage beasts, too emboldened by their own numbers to even consider they were charging into their deaths.


    When the front lines finally got close enough to her, she swung the tree. They were caught on the branches, swept into the gaps, but by the end of the swing, they were sent flying bereft of their arms and armor.


    She swung again, and those who still came were crushed by the tree''s weight. Then, flowing with the momentum and flicking her hips, the tree circled around toward the rest unaware, painting the bark in dark green.


    Now the tree had lost half of its leaves, and the dead took their place. Through the overwhelming stench of so many corpses, only then did the horde of goblins hesitate.


    No more wanted to walk into range, so she did the next best thing and hurled the tree.


    [Featherlight] was a strange spell. Maybe the closest thing she had to a cheat. For the wielder, something as big as a building could move as well as a feather, yet interact with its surroundings with its original mass, defying not just the laws of gravity but also the laws of momentum.


    So even when it left her hand, the tree was still moving as fast as she swung it, launching it forward with a tremendous crack.


    The air slowed it down, but not by much. It tore through the horde, sweeping goblins by the broad length, butchering others with the intact branches. Armor, numbers¡ªnone of it mattered. When the spell dissipated and it finally landed, it rolled and squashed, then rolled and squashed some more, taking tens of goblins with it, only stopping when an ogre took it on the knee with a grunt.


    "H-Holy..." Magni uttered.


    "Uncle Markus, that... Can White Mages even...?"


    "Kid, I don''t even know anymore."


    That should buy them enough time to get it together, but not enough to just stop and heal. Willow reached into her waist pack hidden under her cloak, pulling out the cold vial she had bought from an alchemist''s shop this morning.


    "Catch."


    "Woah!" Magni caught it. "A health potion? High-grade? Yeeesh, these are expensive!"


    "Take Markus and make sure he doesn''t die. I''ll catch up in a minute."


    Willow didn''t bother waiting for their response. She just sprinted towards the horde, her cloak trailing behind her.


    The lead ogre was a big fellow, even by their standard. He wore crude leather armor and wielded an equally crude hammer. His expression was as dull and brutish as the weapon he carried, a face so simple that Willow doubted it could even register anything more complex than pain and anger.


    The other ogre, fat and angry, wanted to move, only to be held back by the leader. A frustrated snarl left its lips. For all their equipment and size, the bigger ogres just hung back while goblins gathered around.


    The lead ogre signaled the horde. A line of goblin archers took aim.


    "[Barrier]."


    Arrows bounced off of her shield. The goblins in her way, she ran over with the translucent wall. Those that went around and tried to poke her with their pointy weapons, she just snatched a spear from the ground and pummeled them away with the blunt end. The arrow volley ended, and she dropped the shield, casting a weak [Reinforcement] to show them the proper way to swing a spear.


    "Hup!"


    A strong, wide sweep and blood splattered her boots.


    Exhaling, she dropped the spear and stepped over the bisected corpses. Her hand was covered in a film of blood, and so was her magic staff, despite her efforts. She wiped the blood on her cloak, leaving behind a dark green streak.


    Seeing so much of their own fall like flies, the goblins that were just about to go in instead turned tail and ran. Willow ignored them and just kept mowing down whoever''s in front of her.


    No need to kill them all. Just enough to make them fear for their lives.


    The lead ogre roared, urging goblins to get back in the fight. Its words sounded like it was just a bunch of guttural noises made with a mouth not made for speech. The goblins seemed to be swayed¡ªnot because of its command, but because another hundred of some goblins were there to back them up and try again as a line of archers, still alive, prepared their second volley.


    She won''t let them.


    From the many destroyed trees lying around, she just picked one, cast another [Featherlight], and then hurled. The tree sailed in the air, gusts in its wake, like a fetch stick.


    Arrows shot out in panic but lodged into the wood. The goblins who failed to duck became smears on the ground. The lead ogre swung with its hammer, and the impact broke the tree in two. However, its momentum sent the lead ogre tumbling along with it.


    With nothing to hold it back, the other ogre stepped up. It tried to do the same thing she did, lifting a tree¡ªone of the longer ones¡ªwith veins popping out of its forehead.


    Willow deadpanned as she stopped just out of its reach. When it swung, all it accomplished was wipe out some of its own army.


    Between her and the ogres, the goblins just didn''t exist.


    The ogre howled, tusks showing in a facsimile of a smirk, as if what it did was something to be proud of, daring her to come closer as it raised the long tree like it''s about to throw.


    Willow huffed.


    "[Featherlight]. [Telekinesis]."


    Several stones shot into the air. She plucked one out and hurled it like a bullet.


    The ogre barely turned its shoulder in time to block it, but for the ones that followed, it wasn''t so lucky.


    Two broke the jaw.


    One punctured the temple.


    And the last one lodged right inside its eye socket.


    "Ugghhhrrrgg!"


    It screamed, clutching its face and roaring in pain. Big mistake: the tree it was holding fell over its head, and the ogre crumpled. Some goblins failed to move away and were crushed under its butt, before getting crushed again by the tree.


    The horde was in shambles. She seemed unstoppable, otherworldly. Even as the lead ogre struggled on its knees, pointing at her with authority in its voice and rage in its eyes, no one dared to face her.


    Willow let out a low, shuddering breath. For whatever reason, the way the lead ogre was acting all tough and commanding, not once bothering to step out and help while everyone else suffered, had pissed her off.


    Her blue eyes pierced into the souls of the damned, promising a swift summary execution.


    She moved.


    The horde bristled, ready for her to bring death into their ranks. Goblins dove behind trees, and the lead ogre raised its arm to protect its head.


    And with a swish of her cloak, Willow just ran away.


    ...


    "...Urrgh?"


    <hr>


    Willow was out of mana and out of stamina.


    Casting [Featherlight] on so many things took too much out of her, and now there''s a throbbing emptiness in her bones.


    Her everything burned. Her clothes were drenched with sweat, her legs were shaking, and her muscles ached. The heat produced by the enhancements had been cooking her under her skin. Unless she defied the Laws of Thermodynamics, her self-reinforcement was a ticking bomb.


    Push too far, and mana deprivation would be the least of her worries.


    She hadn''t been too far behind. The others were boarding Magni''s wagon when she arrived.


    Magni had the reins, and Sven was moving as Willow hopped beside her. The wolf girl reeled at the White Mage''s blood-drenched appearance.


    "D-Did you kill all of them?"


    "I''m good, but not that good. More are coming, so we''ll need to leave quick. How''s Markus?"


    "Knocked out, but alive. Nikolas is taking care of him back there."


    "...Good."


    Willow breathed a sigh of relief. The worst outcome had been averted. For now.


    Life as an adventurer could take any turn. If not today, then it would be tomorrow, and all of this may have been a waste of effort, delaying the inevitable. But as futile as it may be...


    "What about you?"


    Willow tilted her head. "Hm?"


    "You look terrible."


    "...I''ll be fine." Willow pulled her cloak around tighter, hiding the shakes. "Just part of the job."


    She''s still a White Mage, after all.


    Magni stared. There''s an undecipherable emotion behind those eyes, one that made Willow a little uncomfortable. The Merchant opened her mouth to say something, only...


    Sven let out a loud shriek. The bird dug its feet, and the whole wagon lurched as they skidded to a stop.


    Far up ahead, the road was blocked.


    Countless little green men lined up with their clubs and daggers. They filled up the entire width of the road, mixing in with those emerging from the forest on both sides. They were giggling and cackling, as if they knew something they didn''t.


    Willow had a guess.


    Behind the primary group blocking the road, goblins scrambled in and out, lugging rocks in their arms. They dumped them into piles. A few even started pushing and shoving just to meet their quota first.


    Looming over them was the fourth ogre. Strangely, it was shorter, leaner. Its skin was red as hellfire, each breath blowing steam from its nostrils, and its tusks dripped with green blood. It licked its chops, like it had just eaten a delicious snack.


    But if that''s not bizarre enough, there was its right arm. Willow could see the fumes wafting with Demontide, like it was born straight from the monster spawner. Armored and pitch black, the disproportionately enormous arm should''ve tipped the ogre off balanced. And in its clawed hands, she had to squint, was a handful of stones.


    Magni began tugging the reins. "S-Sven, we need to turn around..."


    "We can''t!" Nikolas spoke from the behind. "There are more right behind us. They¡ªhey, hey! Leave him alone!"


    Goblins had sprung from the trees and jumped. The sound of a shield crushing hands as goblins tried to climb aboard, and the scratches against the roof were enough to make Magni scream.


    "Oh, come on! Could my luck get any worse?!"


    She whipped the reins, and Sven obliged. The goblins were thrown off the wagon as the party forced their way forward.


    But now they''re driving themselves into the waiting arms of the red ogre and its army. They''re being lured in.


    Willow groaned as she clung to the driver''s seat. "It just doesn''t end, does it...?"


    No matter. This was why she splurged and prepared more mana potions.


    Three was the maximum amount allowed. There was a saying about drinking mana potions: one to live, two to win, and three to die. You must wait for the body to metabolize between each use; otherwise, the backlash would kill you. Sometimes, if your constitution stat was too low or if you drink the second potion too soon, you''ll cripple yourself or die of potion poisoning.


    But she doesn''t have the luxury to wait.


    Just think of it like a second cup of coffee during the peak hours of a weekend. She''ll be fine...


    ...Right?


    Fighting through the shakes, the numbing sensations, she willed her fingers to uncork the top and¡ª


    A hand rested over the vial.


    "What did I say about rule number one?"


    Markus emerged from the back of the wagon, nursing his head.


    "Uncle Markus, you shouldn''t be moving!"


    "Brat, only my wife gets to worry about me. I''m fine."


    Whatever the healing potion did, it did wonders for his complexion, but not much else. His sluggish movements and slouched posture made him look more like an old man than before.


    Still, there was a hint of fire and brimstone in his gaze.


    "So that''s the bastard, huh...?"


    Willow had a feeling the red ogre was also staring back. Even though it had them in its sights, it chose not to launch its artillery. It didn''t consider them a threat. Why would it? It could kill them even at this distance, so it may as well have the hordes of goblins deliver them to its feet to play with them as it wished.


    Markus clicked his tongue. "Hey, birdie. Ugly over there is lookin'' down on us. Gonna let that stand?"


    Sven growled and puffed up his feathers. He ducked his head low, just an order away from abandoning all sense of preservation, wanting nothing more than to get rid of those eyesores blocking his way.


    "Well, well. A man after my heart."


    Willow and Magni leaned away as the Swordsman used the driver seat to boost himself up to the roof of the wagon.


    "Markus?" Willow asked.


    "Everythin'' will be all right now. Thanks for the save. I owe ya one. All of ya."


    "S-Save our lives and I''ll consider us even!" Magni said.


    "Hah! Consider it done."


    Markus was back on his two feet. He held his broken sword in his right hand, strong despite the rawness of the flesh and bone the healing potion had regenerated. He basked in the breeze and sighed like it''s the sweetest thing since honey and cinnamon.


    "Full speed ahead," he said.


    Sven shrieked, announcing the declaration of war for all to hear.


    The bird beast flapped its wings. The wheels churn. The wind picked up.


    Goblins who wanted to take pot shots immediately changed their minds and scrambled out of the way. The ones chasing them were soon left in the dust.


    The red ogre scrunched in anger in the face of such defiance. It didn''t roar. Nor shout. Nor howl. It simply reared back its blackened arm in deliberate slowness, rocks clutched tight in its claw. Its skin sizzled. Its chest glowed hot and molten. When it reached its full extension, there was a thunderous crack.


    The whistling of air as the projectiles fly served as its battle cry.


    "I don''t appreciate losing in a rock-throwing contest, especially to an ogre probably not even a month old. So how about I show ya something real good, eh? Learned it from the ol'' dojo."


    Markus leveled his broken sword at his hips. A luminescent glow was forming on the blade. Not just the blade. His entire body, too.


    Willow barely sensed it from the driver''s seat, but recognized the flow. Mana breathing?


    "Take a guess why they call me the Flying Sword," he uttered. "Sun Flash, Second Form: [Sky-Scattering Slash]!"


    With a horizontal slash, the air screamed and the glow split into pieces. Each light trail homed onto the projectiles, twisting and turning like they''re following the path of the wind itself.


    The stones shattered midair upon impact, popping like fireworks. Every. Last. One.


    The red ogre''s eyes narrowed. Sneering, it reached into another pile of stones.


    "That all you got?! [Sky-Scattering Slash]!"


    It was like a dance between two storms. For every pile the red ogre threw, the Swordsman answered in kind.


    "[Sky-Scattering Slash]!"


    The sound of thunder in every throw.


    "[Sky-Scattering Slash]!"


    The screeching of the air with every cut.


    "[Sky-Scattering Slash]!"


    Light and stone streaked the skies in a clash of wills. The light that passed through and the rocks that broke would fall to the sides, piercing the surrounding goblins.


    The red ogre reached back, only to find no rock piles left. Snarling, it grabbed a few goblins and threw them instead!


    "Fuck! That''s cheating!"


    Light trailed after the flying goblins, cutting them into clean halves, but his breathing was growing labored. Willow could see the wear and tear of his sword from her place in the driver''s seat. He might be down to two or three swings at most.


    "In that case... Kids! You''re up!"


    "Yes, Uncle!"


    Nikolas had stepped out, a foot still in the wagon, his buckle shield intercepting any projectile goblins they get. Willow helped him, hanging onto the wagon with one hand and swinging her staff with the other. In the middle, poor Magni was keeping her head down and holding onto the reins for dear life.


    "Are you all crazy!?"


    They ignored her and kept swinging away. And the blood: it splattered all over them and the wagon.


    Willow found herself taken by the surreality of it all. Batting away goblins thrown by a mass murdering pitcher like it''s baseball. Hurling themselves against an army like an intercontinental missile. Yet, all she could think of was how good a shower would feel right about now.


    "Got you now, you bastard!"


    Finally, Markus was in range.


    The surrounding energy was compressed. For a brief moment, Markus grinned as his scruffy beard was tinged blue.


    "One more time! [Sky-Scattering Slash]!"


    A hundred pieces screeched through the air. No rocks. No goblins. Unimpeded, they all shoot to kill.


    The red ogre, with eyes wide, crouched and raised its guard. Its lone enhanced arm stood between it and the rain of death. And a moment later, the goblins unlucky enough to be caught in the crossfire were shredded into bloody ribbons.


    They died all around the red ogre. First those at the front and center, then those around the sides, and finally those around the back. The goblins who tried to use the ogre as a shield got taken out by the curving shards. None had survived, not a single one, their bodies perforated and their blood soaking the earth.


    When the rain ended, the red ogre was riddled with oozing black cuts. The rest of the blockade had been decimated. Now the red ogre was the only thing left standing.


    It lowered its arm.


    Only to be met with Sven''s unstoppable beak.


    Willow craned her neck as she watched the red ogre sail right over their heads. In that sublime moment of wonder, she saw the dumbfounded look on the ogre''s face. The way its eyes crossed, the way its jaw hung. How its body twirled, how it shone under the sunlight.


    With what little remained of his blade, Markus drew a wide arc underneath.


    The split halves crashed far behind them, snapping Willow out of her stupor.


    The road was clear. Sven ran like the wind, as free as a bird could be. The monsters left over soon became dots in the distance.


    Constitution Leveled Up!


    Dexterity Leveled Up!


    Intelligence Leveled Up!


    Gained 100 Karma.


    Magni let out a deflating wheeze. "Holy shit."


    "Holy shit," Willow agreed.


    "Holy shit?" Nikolas muttered.


    "Ho. Ly. Shit." And Markus flopped flat on the wagon roof. "We had just survived a Wild Hunt..."


    When monster spawners remain active for long enough, multiple types of monsters would emerge. They would vie for dominance and then form a hierarchy where the strongest, smartest, and cruelest species would lead the army, eventually leading into a deadly march through the land that would lay waste to entire settlements. People would call it a Wild Hunt.


    They were just in the middle of one and had stopped it in its tracks, leaving with their very lives.


    Willow felt smelly and miserable, covered in so much gore that Magni sat as far toward the opposite side of the driver''s seat as possible. Not like the wolf girl was much better, covered in blood herself. She seemed about ready to cry. From the stench, from the traumatizing event they had left behind, or both¡ªonly the Goddess knows.


    Glancing behind, she saw Nikolas had crawled back into the wagon, staring out into the road they came from, lost and distant. Gone was the young naivety; in its place was something solemn and sublime. Like he learned some fundamental truth about the world they live in today. Protagonist things, she supposed.


    Markus? Hardly bothered to come down from the wagon roof, just basking under the dipping sun. The veteran seemed a touch melancholic after a close brush with death. She had to admit, it felt so strange for him to be so stoic now.


    Well. That''s that.


    Mission accomplished.


    Willow closed her eyes, content to just enjoy the wind and the peace and the quiet...


    "So."


    But then Magni just had to open her mouth.


    "In your mid-thirties, huh?"


    Markus shuffled around on the roof. His head poked out, and his arms dangled beside him with the crumbling, bladeless hilt of his sword. "Yeah...? What are ya tryin'' ta say?"


    The wolf Merchant gave him a brief appraisal, before leveling with him the most sympathetic look a girl could give. "The years had not been kind to you, huh?"


    "OH, SOD OFF ALREADY!"

 004

    <div>


    The office smelled of old wood and spilled alcohol. Without air circulation, the sun shining through the window turned the place into a desert even in this coming winter. Secretary Layla had to take off her winter jacket lest she melt and ruin the paper work with her sweaty wrists.


    In one corner was a worn-out couch with some of the cotton stuffing spilling out of the cuts and tears. A quilt was laid over it to make it look presentable, though the quilt itself had strange patterns that just stopped and started halfway as if the creator forgot what they were doing.


    To be fair, Layla kept getting interrupted by work on her break. Just because knitting was her hobby didn''t mean she was particularly good at it.


    At the back were dusty bookshelves with even dustier books inside. Who would read about Classical Culture of Rosarium: 2nd Edition, Ethics of Demontide Research, Tales of the 101 Nights, or the Accounts of the Great Sage: Abridged? They were probably there to make the office look like, well, an office. Give it a little class to make it feel less spartan and to hide the fact that Risadel was built on top of a smoldering ruin after failing to repel a Monster Wave from the Evil Lake.


    At the center, where Layla herself sat with stacks of papers and missives, was the meeting table. It had endured an unholy amount of violence over the years, with numerous scratches and cracks all over, either from unruly guests or those who forgot their own strength. The office sometimes doubled as a war room, so the table featured a complete map of the roads, routes, and kingdoms of Crescelias. She had to cover it up with a quilt to prevent ink stains as she filed the paper work.


    The chairs were crude, creaky things fashioned from the shipment crates whose recipient died years ago. Delivery tags were still stapled in each of their legs and always tilted toward one end, grating on her sanity.


    On the wall behind her, there was a painting frame with no painting. The frame itself was more valuable than everything else here combined.


    Every piece of furniture had been the effects of the Masters who came before. It''s a divine miracle the guild branch had survived so much. The only thing that''s new in this cesspit in the guise of a guild office was the desk, the fifth of its generation.


    "Bullshit."


    "Language, Master Gerald."


    And a certain Master of this guild branch was this close to making it the six.


    Gerald Johnson was already a big man, and the oxen horns sprouting from his head made him look even bigger. Big arms. Big shoulders. A loose tie hung over his pectoral muscles, which threatened to break the shirt buttons Layla had sewn back. One flex, and they''re gone. His chevron mustache wouldn''t be out of place in a dwarven Stromstein bar. With his mean green eyes, he glared down at a deep, blue crystal ball.


    "Piss off. There''s a fucking Wild Hunt blocking the roads toward Nulwiz, and you''re not going to do anything about it? One of my teams almost died, and we had to suspend most of the elimination quests until we get this shit under control. Send in one of your precious Knights at least, before they get fat from all the sitting around!"


    "Sending in a Knight would be a gross misuse of our resources." The sliminess in the voice coming from the other end made Layla''s blood curl. Definitely not popular with the ladies, that''s for sure. "They shall remain here near the capital to defend our good people, as is their rightful duty. Any incident that happens in Risadel''s domain will be Risadel''s responsibility to resolve. You know how it is."


    "And how''s that going for ya? Four of your Knights are struggling with exhaustion at Nulwiz''s Second Wall. Last I heard, the Second Wall was almost breached."


    "Nonsense. Our Knights are the greatest warriors in all of Rosarium, recognized by the Grand Knight himself. They shall not fall to mere exhaustion. Do well to doubt what the Bards say out in the frontiers. Their kind are quite known for their...embellishments."


    The irony of a nobleman of Rosarium insulting the integrity of the Bards, one of the most time-honored and important Classes in the kingdom, was not lost to the Secretary.


    Master Gerald grit his teeth. "Nulwiz won''t get their healers on time if you don''t help us clear the damn roads! Think the Clerics and Priests of Providence would be happy to hear about this? The Halos Alliance? Your own people?!¡±


    "Oh, no." The noble seemed amused. "The Rosarium Kingdom made no such request. Providence simply acted of their own volition. Though I''m sure Nulwiz won''t be opposed to receiving their renowned generosity."


    "Are ya being obtuse on purpose? We need bodies. You need healers. And you¡ª!"


    "Need nothing. Do not underestimate the alchemists under our employ; we have enough potions in stock for Nulwiz to last the Fourth Wave, and the Fifth Wave if necessary."


    "You fucking¡­" Master Gerald shook his head in disbelief. "If it were that simple, the last guy who sat on my seat wouldn''t be dead, would he?¡±


    Layla''s eyes lowered. She remembered back when she was a teen. It was a time before Risadel, back when it had a different name, a different Master. Marshall, a kind and stalwart man who left this world too soon. During a Monster Wave, he defended all the way from the Third, Second, and First Wall in a gamble to stall enough time for help to arrive.


    However, the fortress was on the fringes between Rosarium and the Holy Garden; there was a territory dispute.


    Help never came.


    Marshall took on too much burden during the evacuation and then died of potion poisoning.


    "Come now. I''m sure a famed Platinum-Rank adventurer such as yourself can figure something out. In fact," there was a lilt in his voice, "I heard Risadel has the smallest casualty rate not seen in years. Care to explain?"


    "Unlike you, we don''t wait until people die before we act," Gerald growled. "Sip on some vintage wine and plug your ears, then. See how long that''ll last."


    "Ah, what did I expect from a retired Sailor? Here I am, spending my hard-earned gald to support a lone fortress of Rosarium like a good patriotic citizen, yet you dare to ask for more. How uncouth. Do you think the rules are the same here as they are in Sarnaught? That you once led your own fleet and hunting a few beasts gives you the right to make such demands? There''s more to this world than the Evil Lake and its monsters, you know."


    There was the clinking of glass and then the sound of something pouring. Even Layla paused just to balk at what she''s hearing. Was he actually pouring himself a glass of wine?


    "Remember what we''ve discussed. Complete this task, and the extra equipment will come along with the next monthly shipment." The voice turned dark. "Failing something as simple as this, well... I suppose you already know."


    Judging by the tightening of his fists, Gerald would love nothing more than to crush the crystal ball with his bare hands. He''s done it before. He didn''t because they couldn''t afford replacements anymore. There''s so much he wanted to say, Layla could tell, but in the end they both knew it to be pointless.


    It was the same old song and dance. Risadel would occasionally share correspondence with those at the capital city to either request more support or to play the part of the pawn for a nobleman''s scheme. To let the trade routes suffer meant he had a political rival to estrange.


    Layla glanced around the room, as if she was seeing it all for the first time. The walls, the people, the buildings. The history and struggle soaked into the essence¡ªshe understood. They understood. But the nobles of Rosarium, all cozy and comfortable in the capital city, protected under the vigil of the Kingdom''s Knights? All they saw was the map and the politics and the games they play.


    "Now that we''ve come to an understanding, I shall be ending this call. I''m a busy man, after all. Have a pleasant day, Master Gerald."


    "Eat shit, Mr. Retard."


    "It''s Redner¡ª"


    Gerald shut off the magic crystal ball with a tap. But rather than take the small victory for what it was, he began pacing around the room, fuming.


    "Unbelievable. Un-fucking-believable! We all signed the damn pact to keep our people alive! All of us! And still! Still, these guys are endangering their own people for their stupid politics!"


    Secretary Layla rested a hand over the papers so they wouldn''t fly along the wind caused by Master Gerald''s swinging arms. "Maybe a more polite approach is in order?"


    "Polite?" Gerald snorted. "For those snakes, being polite is like a threat. Then he''d send a tax collector and swindle us out of everything we have left!"


    Master Gerald sat down on the coach. With his enormous frame, it looked more like a chair, creaking under his weight. Well, not like there''s anything else in this room that could hold him without collapsing.


    Deep breaths: in and out. He had lungs large enough to blow a grown man off his feet, but the exercise Layla taught him was working its magic. Soon, his shoulders relaxed, and the angry wrinkles on his face disappeared. Straightening his tie, he looked toward the door.


    "You can come in now," he said.


    The door opened, and in stepped Layla''s favorite White Mage.


    She had come straight from a bath after returning from yet another arduous quest, yet again covered in gore. So soon after a brush death of death from a Wild Hunt, too. There was a towel hanging over her neck. Her white hair was still damp and disheveled, smelling of lilacs. The white cloak she was known for was still left out to dry, revealing a blue tunic whose color turned faint from the constant alcoholic treatments used to clean it.


    Layla still remembered when Willow first appeared: cold and lone, haggard and weary, like she hadn''t slept in days. Everyone thought she was a Rustie, a noble girl who ran from home and thought to try her hand at a ''glamorous'' life of adventuring. She was too prickly and educated to be otherwise. Someone was searching for her, at the very least.


    But nobody came.


    Apparently, she was returning from Collegium, the Northern Magic Towers, where Risadel was a brief stop toward Lunaria, the Holy Garden Kingdom, before she ran out of money to pay for the carriage ride. She had joined the Dragon Tale guild to find a job, and the rest was history.


    Now, over seven months later, she''s stuck doing quests for as a part of the Support Corps as if she had nowhere else to go.


    It''s such a shame, too, Layla thought. Such a cute face stuck in the front lines, dealing with so many goblin quests... The world can be so unfair sometimes.


    "Willow," Gerald nodded. "Just the girl I like to see."


    "How''s the new soap been treating you?" Layla smiled. "Slides the blood and gunk right off, doesn''t it?"


    "It''s...been great." Willow pulled up a chair. "What about you? Talking to the admins from the capital again?"


    Gerald sneered. "Those rat bastards saddled with us another escort quest right after we got done with the last one. Another caravan of dubious goods, no questions asked."This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    "You weren''t complaining last time when they offered a big shipment of Salamander Wine," Layla teased.


    "T-That was before we had a Wild Hunt to deal with!"


    "Is this why you called for me?" Willow droned. "An escort?"


    "No. I''ve used up a favor and already have someone trustworthy handling that."


    Willow blinked. "Really now..."


    Gerald nodded. "Layla?"


    That was her cue. Secretary Layla picked off a folder and slid it across the meeting table. "This is an updated list of Rusties from the other branches. And two of them are found right here in Risadel."


    "Oh, boy..." Poor girl was already losing the light in her eyes as she opened the folder. "What is it this time? Runaways? An elopement? Daredevils lured in by the scent of adventure?"


    "We don''t know," Layla said. "What we do know is that their families must be up. Way up."


    Willow scanned through the papers. "Two females, a Magic Fencer and a Wind Mage, high-level equipment, jewelry sold to some pawnshop..." A few page flips. "A LOT of pawnshops. And an affinity for quests with high risk, low reward. So we have a heroic bunch whose not afraid to hide their status¡ªduchy at minimum¡ªbut no lineage to point to. How often does that happen?"


    "Not very," Gerald said. "Normal Rusties would bumble around and invoke their family names, either to show off or if things got too hard. Whoever these shits are, they''re good. Good enough to travel far and stay incognito."


    "Why haven''t we reported them to Rosarium officials yet?"


    "Because no one, not even that rat bastard, Mr. Retard, called for us to find them." Gerald shrugged his massive shoulders. "Not yet anyway. For now, we can assume they have the blessing of their families¡ªor they''re not important enough for the other nobles to bother. You''d be surprised how often nobles ''look out'' for one another as a ''favor'', if you catch my drift."


    "Still, it''s a scary position to be in," Layla said. She swept the piles of papers¡ªand the quilt¡ªaside to reveal the table map beneath. She traced a finger across the roads between Risadel and the greater parts of the Rosarium domain. "With so many elimination quests put on hold, there will be more monster activity than ever. People won''t be getting in or out of Risadel without significant protection. If anything happens to these girls, Risadel will be held responsible. But," she wet her lips, "they just might be what we need to contact an alternate backer. We need someone to watch over them, or at least until things cool down."


    "And you," Gerald pointed, "are the best White Mage for the job."


    Willow blanched. "You mean I''m the only White Mage for the job. Aren''t you putting too much faith in a Silver-ranked adventurer? I really don''t think..."


    "None of that matters, kid. Your record is impeccable. No matter which party of munchkins you wind up in, they always come back alive. How about I sweeten the deal?" Gerald raised a finger just as Willow was about to refute. Reaching under the couch, he pulled out a pouch that Layla had prepared a while ago and tossed it.


    Willow caught it in one hand. She gave it a little shake, and all 1500 gald in pretty gold coins jiggled inside.


    "You''ll be exempt from joining any other party until this is resolved. And I''ve doubled your normal monthly pay. Heard you were in a deficit recently."


    When Willow turned to Layla with a look, the secretary returned it with a wink and a smile. The guild held a close relationship with the local alchemists, after all. With a mutual vested interest in the safety of their adventurers and the severity of potion poisoning, it was as simple as asking who were their biggest spenders.


    "Get the job done like you always had," Gerald said. "Treat it like a normal quest."


    "Normal, huh..." Willow stared at the pouch, deep in thought. Like the word ''normal'' was as mysterious as the darkest depths of the Evil Lake''s abyss.


    The secretary shot the Master with a pointed look, and he winced a little, realizing his mistake. It was a poor choice of words. After all, the Willow''s quests were anything but normal.


    Willow''s sigh broke the silence. "Fine. A job''s a job. Can''t say no to money, anyway..."


    A part of Layla felt guilty springing such an important job on the White Mage like this, but she couldn''t help but feel the relief washing over her. The doors may be closed for the admins at Rosarium''s capital, but with these mysterious Rusties, they just might...


    "Just tell me one thing, out of curiosity. I''ve been meaning to ask for a while now, anyway."


    Gerald sat up straight. "Shoot."


    "Nikolas, the Shielder. And Markus, the Swordsman. Is there something important I should know about them?"


    Gerald went silent. But Layla knew his tells well enough that even he, a Platinum-ranked adventurer, had been startled. There was the imperceptible widening of his eyes right before he killed it. A stone-like expression took its place.


    Layla, feeling the tension in the air, looked away.


    "I can''t say," he finally said.


    Willow huffed. "Fair enough, I suppose. I''ll be heading out now."


    She hopped out of her chair and turned to leave, twirling the pouch of coins into a knotty pile in her hands. She was about halfway through opening the door when...


    "Willow."


    She paused by the door frame.


    "...May Kyaeris''s blessings blow your sails," Gerald said.


    "Yeah," Layla said softly. "Good luck."


    There was a faraway look on Willow''s face. "...You should know by now that luck doesn''t apply to me. But thanks."


    The door closed. And she was gone.


    Gerald sighed, reclining on the couch with his arms flopped to his sides. Layla slumped onto the table, never minding her arms messing with the table map. After all, those were familiar names.


    Markus, an old friend. And Nikolas...


    Nikolas Clover.


    Son of Marshall Clover, the previous Master of Risadel.


    "Again with that intuition of hers... Heh." Gerald had one of those smiles again, the kind with the nostalgia and longing, as he looked out toward the window, where the Evil Lake lied ahead. "Marshall and the old crew would''ve hated her."


    Layla giggled. "Hey now. Markus and Nikolas are both alive, thanks to her."


    "Shit. The same could be said for almost half of the guild branch."


    <hr>Strength Leveled Up!


    [Status]


    STR: 18 (+1)


    CON: 13


    DEX: 12


    INT: 18


    PER: 15


    MAN: 7


    LUK: ERROR


    <div>


    "I really don''t want to die of overwork again."


    Same table, same dark corner. Willow had wrapped herself in a cocoon of her own white cloak, fresh from the laundry, and was completely done with herself.


    True to expectations, the workload had gotten worse after the Dragon Tale guild confirmed monster spawner activity along the important trade routes. Although many elimination quests had been canceled, the more urgent and messier ones still needed doing.


    It was a given that some of her lowest physical stats would''ve increased; her recent abuse of [Reinforcement] was hell on her body, and she had performed enough complex spell calculations in enough stressful situations to warrant an extra point in intelligence.


    But then her strength just had to catch up during a different quest.


    How long before her [Featherlight] spell became obsolete and she could just slap an ogre''s head off instead?


    "You say that like you died in a past life."


    Beside her was the drunken wolf girl herself. Not across. Beside.


    Ever since their first quest together, the Merchant had stuck around in Risadel and had gotten awfully familiar with the White Mage. Willow thought she had always given the impression that she wanted to be left alone, and her guild mates usually preferred the company of their own party.


    Not Magni. She just plopped right next to her and had never left her side, acting like they had been the chummiest of chums since day one.


    Magni had skipped the cup and sipped straight from the bottle. All sober and casual-like, as if the Salamander Wine wasn''t lighting up in her throat like a Christmas tree. The fumes alone made Willow''s eyes sting.


    "...Maybe I did," Willow muttered. "I''m surprised you haven''t left town yet. Not scared of the monsters swarming the place?"


    "And miss out on this great opportunity? Never! With the other merchants gone, that leaves me with almost no competition. I could sell the adventurers my driving services, then charge those suckers a premium, eheheh~!" Magni puffed her chest. "Praise me. I''m a genius!"


    The fact that Magni said this while said "suckers" were in the guildhall in earshot was as shameless as it was amazing.


    "I admire your...optimism, Magni," Willow droned. "Really."


    "Cheer up! With all the quests you''ve been doing, Dragon Tale must be paying you plenty, right?"


    "...How would you know that?"


    "Easy!" Magni leaned in close and personal. Her wolf ears were pointed, and eyes were closed as she gave a whiff. "I can smell and hear the money on you. The minty scent they give off. The pleasant ring whenever they scrape together... To a merchant, they''re the most beautiful sensations in the world."


    "Okay...?"


    "Oh, yeah." With how airy she said it, Magni seemed too mesmerized to notice she was getting a bit too close for comfort. "That''s a looot of money..."


    But it was the smile reeking of desperation and alcoholism that gave it away.


    Something was up.


    "...Magni, what''s going on?"


    "Huh? O-Oh!" Realizing what she was doing, Magni retreated back to her seat with twitchy ears and a blush on her cheeks. "W-Well, can''t a girl sit and chat with a comrade in life and death? There hadn''t been a worse adventure than that quest until I met you."


    "That quest. So we''re calling it that now."


    "Yeah. That quest. And, well, there aren''t many girls to sit with, as you can probably tell. Some guys are smelly, and some guys look at me funny. There''s this guy named Frederick who I helped cart his party to the next town for a quest, and let me tell ya¡ª"


    "Magni. For real."


    "A-Ah, well, I''ve got big dreams and an even bigger tummy to fill, so since we''re best pals now, I hoped that maybe, just maybe, with all the goodness in your heart, in your infinite wisdom, in your bountiful bags of¡ª"


    "Magni."


    Magni bit her lip. "Can I borrow 200 gald?"


    "...Why?"


    "Sven is a big bird, so feeding him racks up the bills. And then I crashed the front of my wagon into a tree while driving another party this morning. I can''t drive for others until I get it repaired."


    Did this girl just brag about her money-making scheme, only to admit that it crashed before it barely left the ground? And it took Willow a long moment to spot the irregularity. Because if Sven was in the front dragging the cart, then...


    Her lips parted in disbelief. "How?"


    "T-Things just happen, okay?! Look, I need the funds, and you''re the only one I could ask. Please help a girl out!"


    Well, she HAD just gotten a chunk of gald to spend. And it would be bad for everyone if one of the few merchant wagons in Risadel was no longer available.


    ...Like it or not, Magni just might be one of the most important actors in Risadel''s survival right now.


    Willow opened her mouth to respond, but then stopped. Her gaze locked onto a certain table nearer to the middle of the guildhall.


    It was Nikolas. Markus was nowhere to be seen.


    Willow had been keeping close tabs on the two. They tried some small talk with her on occasions, making it even easier to be privy to their activities. Apparently, even though it had only been a few days, Nikolas was ready to strike out on his own and make a name for himself without the Swordsman''s handholding, which left Markus free to take up quests matching his level.


    Willow remembered how the Swordsman showed off his shiny new sword one day, perfectly enchanted so it won''t break in the middle of intensive fights. Swallowed his pride and "called in a favor," he said. She already guessed that he''s the very ''trustworthy person'' Gerald was talking about, sent on that important escort mission.


    Sounded like character development. She had faith he wouldn''t get killed off anytime soon.


    Nikolas was sitting with a group of four others. One of them, Willow recognized.


    Claire Cyana, the Cleric. The only other member of the Support Corps in Risadel. Her pure white nun''s habit covered up a lot, but she''s still a sight for sore eyes in these troubling times. Dark hair poked through the habit, and her bangs hung over her gentle expression like a parted curtain. Anyone could tell by her slender hands that she''s thin and frail, her chestnut eyes sunken from overwork. It was rare for Willow and Claire to be in the same room, with one on a quest while the other hung back in the guild to deal with patients.


    She put up a strong front, but Willow could tell she''s anxious, fiddling with that cross necklace of hers. She also noticed how the two men on her side of the table were sitting a bit too close for comfort.


    Nikolas''s side seemed just as uncomfortable, because right next time to him was an immense man in bulky armor grinding an axe on a whetstone who took up so much room that Nikolas was almost hanging off of his seat. Some patrons unfortunate enough to be within hearing distance of his axe-grinding were openly glaring but did little else.


    They all seemed to be doing introductions.


    Magni''s ears pressed flat against her head. "Is... Is that a no?"


    "That guy next to Nikolas..."


    "Huh?" Magni looked. "Oh. Him. The silver-ranked Axe Warrior, Gaius. Guess he found himself a few fans, too. Just a fair warning: He''s as much of a loudmouth as he is good at swinging that wicked axe of his. Very bossy, a huge strung-up jerk. Didn''t appreciate small talk when I helped carry him to his quest location."


    "Doesn''t much of that also describe me?"


    "What? Of course not! Why would you think that?"


    "...Never mind."


    The Axe Warrior said something, his voice so harsh and heavy it even pierced through the dull roar of the crowd. Nikolas looked down.


    "Laying down the pecking order, that guy..." Magni''s ears flickered as she sipped from her bottle, but not quite. "That''s no way to talk to someone..."


    ...Should she interfere? Nikolas might work things out with that luck stat of his, but Claire was having it just as bad as Willow did. If the party did anything stupid and she got hurt...


    Willow must''ve been staring too hard because Claire took notice. She seemed taken aback as they locked eyes. Eventually, the tired Cleric managed a smile small enough for her to notice...and shook her head.


    Willow frowned.


    Nikolas''s group stood up. Since they were done with the introductions, they wasted no time going up to the reception desk to receive their approval. When a receptionist returned them a stamped missive, the Axe Warrior snatched it from the poor woman''s hands without so much as a thank you.


    They began marching out. Nikolas and Claire meekly followed.


    And then it was like fate.


    Another group had entered through the double doors. Two cloaked and hooded figures whose beautiful features peaked underneath, young women who seemed just out of place in a normal crowd.


    At the doorway, the two groups stopped. Their eyes met, an infinitesimal coincidence, before sliding right off of each other. They simply stepped around and moved on with their business, as strangers normally would. To them, it was a moment of curiosity and nothing more.


    But the dots connected in Willow''s head.


    "...Alright. Fine."


    "Huh?"


    "500 gald instead. I''ll give it to you."


    "R-Really? No kidding?"


    "Yeah. But in exchange," she lowered her voice, keeping herself under the shadows so no one would listen in, "I need you to hear me out."


    "Sure! Sure..." Magni hunched in, her face all serious and business-like, but there''s no hiding that wagging tail of hers. "A lady of upstanding morality I may be, I can guarantee my flexibility. Arranging an accident on someone so mean to our buddy Nikolas would be a¡ª"


    "Shut up. Just listen."


    Willow really hoped she wouldn''t regret this.

 005

    <div>


    Nikolas had thought his fears were unfounded; in his first real quest, everyone knew what they were doing and everyone had been kind to him. As long as he followed his role, there was nothing to fret.


    But not every party leader was like Markus. Not everyone was as laid back as Magni, or as attentive as Willow. Sometimes his luck won''t always work either.


    Gaius the Axe Warrior and his two lackeys¡ªhe really tried to find the kindest way to describe them¡ªhad sneered at his bronze badge the moment they met. Whatever Gaius said, the other two would follow. If Gaius scowled, they scowled. If Gaius laughed, they laughed. So when he sat down, Nikolas had felt small and outnumbered as they looked at him with derision.


    "Let''s make one thing clear. You two do as I say. You will heal when I say heal, and you will block when I say block. Got it? I won''t tolerate any disobedience from you pipsqueaks who probably hadn''t seen a drop of blood in your sorry little lives."


    Nikolas had wanted to correct him: he HAD spilled blood, and he HAD slain goblins. He had stopped himself, realizing it didn''t sound as impressive if he had said it out loud. If only he had his sister''s sharp tongue, then maybe...


    Claire, the Cleric, was different. She stood straight and alert, like the slightest detail deserved her attention. It was as if she had expected it from Gaius; but whatever she felt about it, Nikolas couldn''t tell past her blank yet gentle expression. The two lackeys would snigger and say things even though she was in earshot, but she would let it all pass over her as if it was just the wind.


    For a moment, Nikolas was reminded of a certain White Mage.


    Was this casual abuse common among supporters in the Support Corps?


    Before he could even think about everything wrong with the party, they were on the move. Claire had followed¡ªso demurely, so serenely, that he found his feet following, too. By then it was too late to back out, and Nikolas realized there was no point in arguing. They''re a party now. All he could do was trust in his shield and believe it would carry him all the way through.


    They were out the door. They were following the path up the river, along Bard Street, and then walked past the few Merchants and Bards who remained in Risadel after the announcement of the Wild Hunt. By now, the party should be marching out of town...


    ...only to be stopped by a familiar face.


    "¡ªand that, gentlemen, is why I will loan you a special, one-of-a-kind Return Scroll! Tada~!" Magni pulled from her pockets a scroll decorated in symbols and lines that could make a layman''s head spin. They glittered like fairy dust, humming with a power unmistakable even by Nikolas''s untrained eye. "The real deal! Every adventurer should own at least one in these trying times!"


    The blue-haired wolf girl was panting between words, sweat dripping down her brow as if she had just ran a marathon. Somehow the Merchant fast talked the obviously scary group of adventurers into a dialogue without a hint of fear or shame.


    What... Why was Magni all the way out here? Shouldn''t she be back in the guildhall, drinking Salamander Wine, talking with Willow?


    She wasn''t alone. Her riding bird Sven was right behind her, looking like he had been dragged into a day trip without his consent. But considering the piece of meat it had just thrown up into the air and swallowed in his beak, he had actually been bribed to come here.


    "Hmph." Gaius crossed his arms. "Not interested."


    "Oh, come on! Hear me out~! You can''t miss out on this killer deal, mister!" Magni thrust out two fingers in a dramatic flourish, almost like a peace sign. "200 gald as collateral! That''s almost a fifth of the market rate! If you use it, I keep the money. Don''t use it, then you can return the scroll to me and get your money back guaranteed!"


    But...was that not just a purchase and a refund?


    "You can''t fool me," Gaius growled. He flexed his arms and shoulders, making himself look bigger and taller. "I bet that thing doesn''t even work!"


    Behind Magni, Sven had paused from eating. He stared at the Axe Warrior, a dangerous glint in his eyes.


    Nikolas gulped. He had seen the Humblewing flip an ogre off the ground, and even if Gaius was a bit mean, he had done nothing to deserve getting ripped into next week. Not yet, at least.


    Magni looked up Gaius in the eyes with a tut in her lips. "I can assure you that this item is the genuine article. See these lines? See the sublime craftsmanship of the mage who inscribed these symbols? The breath of the arcane that lies deep in the ink and parchment?"


    The Axe Warrior didn''t bother giving the scroll a proper look. "Just pretty dust and random pictures. Like I would fall for such an cheap scam."


    Magni gasped. She waved her arms at him, never minding how it made her look like a petulant child. "How rude! Why, for slandering my good name, I oughta charge you for damages! A Merchant''s success hinges on her reputations, and I thought an adventurer of your standing understood at least this much."


    "Why, you..."


    What she''s saying barely made any sense. Gaius grew irritated with every word she spoke. Anytime he would interject, she would blast back with five times the word count, refusing to let him get anything in word-wise with all her yapping.


    Nikolas was biting his fingers because, Magni, please shut up!


    One of the lackeys whispered, "Wasn''t she the Merchant who crashed her cart?"


    "Must be getting desperate, selling something so valuable," the other said. "It looks real, too."


    "But it''s too suspicious, don''t ya think? It''s probably a fake, like Gaius said..."


    Was it? Uncle Markus had shown him around the market along the Bard Street of another town, once. He had shown him what a real Return Scroll would look like. Explained the signs. The feeling. No matter which angle he saw it, the scroll in Magni''s hands was genuine. And at the price she''s offering, it''s practically a steal.


    "Oh shut up already! Even if it''s real, we don''t need it." Gaius''s armor rattled as he rolled back his shoulders, not-so-subtly showing the size of his muscles. He looked like was going to show her a world of hurt. "Only low-lives would be afraid of a bunch of slimes and goblins."


    "O-Oho!" Magni acted like she wasn''t the slightest bit fazed. "A customer who likes the thrill of danger, I see..."


    Just now, was that a backhanded¡ª?


    "Then perhaps a seasoned, battle-hardened adventurer such as yourself would appreciate something like...this!" Magni reached behind her and pulled out a map! No, not just a map, but also a few sheets of parchment, and she raised them up high like they''re the most sacred relics in the world. "This is a collection of notes and logs, built upon the blood and sacrifice of our brave adventurers! You will find all there is to know about the monsters that spawn around Risadel!"


    Gaius growled. "So it''s junk then. Don''t need it."


    "But my good sir, you must be new to the area. It hasn''t been a week since you first arrived to our humble town of Risadel, yes?" Magni spoke mysteriously, acting like she had been a native for years. Nikolas knew for a fact she wasn''t much better than the rest of them. She smirked. "I''ll even cut you a deal: 100 gald, and all this will be yours~! Trust me, it''ll be worth it."


    Why did she look at Nikolas when she said that? And was that a wink?


    "...Tch. Only I decide what''s worth it and what''s not. Lemme see."


    Gaius tried to grab it, but Magni pulled away and clutched the papers to her chest.


    "Nope! Nuh uh. With this one, you gotta pay up," she snapped her fingers, "or you''re not seeing a word."


    Whatever Magni was scheming, it failed because Gaius had completely lost interest. With a shrug of his giant axe, he stared down at the wolf girl and was seemingly a push away from taking a swing.


    "What a waste of time. Just take your damn bird and scram. Don''t need you pesky Merchants peddling your crap."


    At the mention of the "damn bird", Nikolas felt his eyes pop out. Sven had stood up from where he was eating. His feathers were ruffled, and his gaze was locked toward the unsuspecting Axe Warrior. A low, dangerous sound rumbled from his beak. Thinking fast, Nikolas started reaching deep into his own pockets.


    "N-Now, sir..." Magni had to physically hold Sven back from just mauling the poor bastard. "You must watch your words. Seriously!"


    "Hah! Or what?" Gaius showed teeth. "What''s it gonna do? Peck me to¡ª!"


    Nikolas raised his hand. "I''ll buy it!"


    Everyone looked at him.


    And then at the shiny, gleaming coin in his palm.


    Silence.


    "And sold~!"


    It happened in a blink: Magni yoink''d it off his hand, and the papers took its place. By the time Nikolas processed what happened, the Merchant was already going. She was dragging Sven by the reins down through Bard Street, her tail swaying like she had just gotten away with the greatest crime of her life.


    "Pleasure doing business with you~!"


    There was an indignant squawk.


    "I-I''ll make it up to you, Sven! I promise!"


    She turned a corner, and then she was gone.


    Nikolas had done it in the moment. He thought if he just paid instead of Gaius, it would make Magni go away and stop causing trouble. So why did it suddenly feel like he had been scammed like a complete idiot?


    One of the lackeys slapped his back. "Bwhahaha! Wow! The fresh meat might actually be a Rustie! You could buy a full potion with that kind of money! No wonder you look so green!"


    "Hey, Rustie," the other said, "if you had so much money to throw around, ya should''ve bought us a few beers! It''s the least you could do for us letting you in to be carried by our party, haha!"


    Gaius narrowed his eyes. "Always with the stupid Rusties," he muttered. "Think money solves everything? People like you don''t live for long. Whatever, get a move on, everyone. We don''t have all day."


    "Yeah, yeah, boss."


    "Whatever you say."


    Nikolas swallowed, trying his best not to shake. It seemed that now there was some sort of misunderstanding. But, at least, no one got hurt. It''s for the better, right? Slowly, he eased his shoulders and looked at the parchment in his hands.


    Claire, though, had not gone ahead yet. She looked over his shoulders, curious.


    "What does it say?" she asked.


    "Huh? O-Oh, uh..."


    She was a bit too close. Feeling his face heat up, he tried to ignore it and started flipping through the papers.


    From what little Nikolas could see, the notes were neatly written within the margins, and where there wasn''t enough room, more were in the additional pieces of paper with headers and everything. Migration patterns, possible hunting spots, common behaviors specific to Risadel terrain... Besides the strange terms like Boss Arena, Kill Box, and Corridors, the detail was incredible.


    Uncle Markus had lectured more than once on the importance of information. The problem was finding a reliable source. The Dragon Tale guild and its information network were lauded for their timeliness and accuracy, but places like the Risadel branch could only do so much, lacking manpower to update the maps.


    Nikolas could hardly believe it. Shouldn''t this be shared with the entire guild?


    "Oh..." Claire blinked. "One of Willow''s maps."


    "Willow''s?"Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    "Every adventurer keeps their own set of maps. It just so happened that Willow had gone on enough quests to cover almost half the entire domain of Risadel. The guild usually uses her written reports because they''re so broad and detailed."


    "So why hadn''t the guild...?"


    Claire smiled bitterly. "Ink is expensive. We don''t have enough this month to make and replace all the old ones."


    "Oh."


    Nikolas had overheard the guild attendants complain about that. Something about how they literally couldn''t afford any mistakes, getting price-gouged by the Dream Ink company. Things behind the guild administration must be rough if even their necessities were scarce.


    As he thumbed through the rest of pages, he found something different from the rest of the map notes.


    "...What''s this?"


    Underneath, hidden between the pages, was a certain scroll. The power of the Return Scroll, the real deal, buzzed between Nikolas''s fingers.


    The Shielder felt his jaw drop. He jerked his head toward where Magni disappeared, having half a mind to chase her down and return it, but he knew it was too late.


    "Oh, Willow..." Claire whispered. "She pulled through."


    Nikolas looked at her. "Pulled through? What do you mean?"


    "Um," the Cleric worked up her lips, "it''s...an arrangement we had. We share the same Return Scroll, passing it on to whoever had the most dangerous or most urgent mission. We try not to use it, but it''s very reassuring to have. I just never thought she could get another so soon..."


    If Gaius had realized how valuable the things in his hands were, he would''ve monopolized them for himself. Now, with this, Nikolas and Claire had an edge. Realistically, they shouldn''t need so much for a simple extermination quest, but after an encounter with a Wild Hunt, Nikolas felt his anxieties ebb away from the warmth of the Return Scroll. The certainty of knowing there was a way out, that their fates were still in their own hands...


    Magni. Willow...


    Even now, he was being spoiled rotten.


    "Quickly, now," Claire urged. "We''ll be left behind."


    "Right!"


    His fingers tightened around the scroll. He refused to let it go to waste. This quest must only end with a resounding success!


    Luck Leveled Up!


    <div>


    ...Huh?


    <hr>


    If everything went well, then Magni had delivered everything.


    Maybe it was a bit excessive on her part, but one could never tell with anything involving the protagonist. Besides, that party of his just screamed trouble: face-slapping shenanigans or a wild encounter with a high-level monster or both. Worst case scenario, Claire was one of the heroines of this JRPG world, and Nikolas''s plot armor should handle the rest.


    Willow won''t be around, but at least the Return Scroll and notes she gave them should tip the scales a little more in their favor.


    For now, Willow must give the mission her full undivided attention.


    Quest: River Slime Extermination


    Requirements: a party of three, minimum rank of Silver.


    Objectives: clear the Risadel river of slime monsters from the First Wall up to the Second Wall, report any anomalies. Reward: 1250 gald.


    How nostalgic. This used to be one of her first quests when she reached Silver.


    The road from Bronze to Silver required the completion of a certain number of quests at certain difficulties. Search and extermination quests were the quickest way to meet all the criteria. After that, there were rank-up exams held once every month¡ªat least for other guild branches. Risadel was small enough that the silver badge was just handed to you as a matter of professional trust. Though, with more adventurers coming in with prospects of money and glory, the monthly exams might be coming back.


    Silvers were expected to have proficiency in combat. And these two Rusties?


    They were good.


    Water Slimes the size of watermelons were climbing out of the river in a swarm. When they touched land, the grass submerged inside them dissolved into bubbles as they rolled and hopped and slid.


    The Magic Fencer was already in the fray. The overwhelming wave of monster slimes seemed too chaotic to navigate, but she ducked and weaved where she could and backed off no more than two steps to keep herself from being surrounded. With her hand firm under the swirling, wave-like hilt of her rapier, she slashed with her blade coated in an orange light.


    The hood of her cloak had fallen away during the fight. Bright ginger hair as blazing as the sun, woven into a side braid, swayed with her movements. Calm, blue eyes tracked the slimes, reading the most efficient path for her blade, then executing each swing which shredded more than four slimes at a time. Her armor remained light to match her quick and fast fighting style, but if a slime got too close, she wasn''t afraid to use her arm guards to punch it away.


    Still, it was a lot of slimes. That''s when the girl beside Willow raised a wooden staff and cast a spell.


    "[Wind Wall]!"


    She raised layers of wind on each of the Magic Fencer''s sides. Any slimes that tried to pass through were blown back into the swarm, forcing them into the middle, where the Magic Fencer ripped through them with ease.


    The slimes would jump on top of each other, trying to go over the wind walls. The Wind Mage, while maintaining the spell, simply pointed and cast: "[Gale Cutter!]"


    Razorblades of air slashed through and toppled the entire pile. She only needed to cast it twice before the number of slimes thinned out to the point they couldn''t climb over the walls anymore.


    From there, it was like a tug of war. Sometimes the Magic Fencer gained ground, and other times she lost it. This would last until either she exhausted herself or all the man-eating slimes perished. Though, considering they''ve already done this before, all bets were on the Magic Fencer.


    Good plan. Willow liked it. They kept to their strengths and took advantage of the single-minded behavior of the monsters. Already, they''re better than most adventurers she partied up with.


    Frankly, Willow felt a little redundant, having done nothing but watch so far. But that''s a good thing. It''s rare for her to just sit back like a White Mage was supposed to.


    Everything was going well.


    For now.


    "And that''s the last one!"


    With a dramatic thrust, the Magic Fencer pierced a slime in mid-air, and it popped like a balloon. The ground was all brown and muddy from all the slimes she had killed, but as for herself, she was spotless. A swish and a twirl, and the rapier was back in its sheath.


    The ginger head eased out a low, solemn breath. For a moment, anybody would''ve seen the perfect picture of a knightess, a woman of honor weighed by her duty to her kingdom, secretly awaiting the day a sublime fate would sweep her off her feet. It was the kind of romantic image that Bards would sing about, that writers would write about.


    But then she broke into a childlike grin and threw a thumbs up.


    "See that, Anne? Justice prevails once again!" And she winked. "I believe that deserves a round of applause!"


    Anne the Wind Mage giggled and gave exactly that. "Hooray! You''re amazing, Aire! Good job~!"


    With nothing else better to do, Willow quietly clapped along. They''re both goofy little goobers, but they really did good. The four times they''ve done this have gone off without a hitch. She''ll humor them at least this much.


    "And I see our stoic White Mage was impressed as well!" Puffing her chest and a hand on her hips, Aire the Magic Fencer swept her cloak like a cape riding against the wind. "Tell me, young White Mage, was I dashing, or was I dashing?"


    "...It was okay."


    "So cold!" Aire gasped, a hand over her chest. "You wound me, young Miss! As fellows of nobility, I would''ve thought you''d appreciate better vocabulary than that! Where''s your sense of adventure?"


    "Again, I''m not a noble," Willow said flatly. This was going to be a thing, wasn''t it? "Should a grown woman really be acting like this?"


    "Youth has no age, friend. For as long as there is the Sword of Justice and the Lake of Evil¡ªwith the Goddess as my witness, I will be like the sun and strike down the shadows wherever they may lay!"


    Willow sighed. The Magic Fencer was quite the character. She wished it was all just a phase, but no, this heroic wannabe had been acting like this for hours. She was starting to think that if Aire actually ever did stop, then she would just keel over and die. And really...


    "...did you really just quote Mars Sunglass the Sun Knight?"


    Aire went stock still.


    At first, Willow thought she had been surprised or offended being called out like that, but then Aire turned to her...and gasped.


    Were those... Were those sparkles in her eyes?


    "So you do have a sense of adventure! Do tell where you first heard it from¡ªwas it from the Chronicles of the North, the Songs of Sunshine, the Thirteen Victories of Rosarium? O-Or was it perhaps from the controversially acclaimed Romance By Daylight?" Aire awkwardly coughed into her fist. "I won''t judge."


    "Uh..."


    "A-Aire!" Fortunately, the Wind Mage spared Willow the indignity of answering. She slapped her wrists on the Magic Fencer''s shoulder with a pouty frown. They hit about as hard as cotton. "Please, you''re being a bother to the White Mage. Can''t you see you''re intimidating her?"


    Anne was a farcry from her companion. From under her hood, dull yellow locks swept over one eye, almost like they''re trying to hide her from the world. The maid uniform under her cloak had seen a lot in its journey, the wear and tear at the skirt making it shorter around the knee yet easier to move around. A maid attendant following her lady, shy, soft-spoken, maybe a bit too pretty; it was hard to believe she was a willing participant in this wild journey, and had reached Silver rank at that.


    Anne gave Willow an apologetic look. "I''m so sorry for her behavior. I-I know she''s a bit much, so you don''t have to listen to her if you don''t want to."


    "But, Lil¡ªLittle Anne," Aire whined. "She''s the first person to recognize the great sayings of the great Knightess! A fellow connoisseur of the great literature, just like us!"


    "Aire, please..."


    "I take it you''re a really big fan," Willow droned.


    "But of course! In fact, my family is¡ªis, um..." Aire sucked her lips, her eyes wide, just for a moment. "Every story about her was read by my family. Yes. Indeed! Achieving such glory for ourselves one day is the family dream!"


    Well.


    Willow now had a pretty good idea which family Miss Dashing hailed from.


    Long ago, there was a self-made noble who returned to his roots and began adventuring again. To reconnect with the common people and to keep his skills from "rusting," he said. Sometimes noble sons and daughters were sent out not only to see the world but also to prove their worth as a mark of adulthood.


    But when the less than pragmatic nobles heard about this, it became one of the biggest fads, treated it like a casual camping trip. It used to be that they''re called "Rusties" for staying stuck at the Bronze rank¡ªless than useless basically¡ªor, as the Bards famously quoted, because the only taste of adventure they had was the rust in their bleeding mouths.


    But in this world, JRPG logic still applied. You don''t survive with such lofty dreams of justice and adventure without being someone important, after all.


    As it just so happened, the Sunglass Family was quite known for their blazing red hair and their martial prowess. Descending from a legendary Knight, they''re one of the few houses that espoused the codes of chivalry.


    "U-Um, we''ve made excellent progress! At this rate, we might finish this quest in time for the next one. Ah," Anne looked to Willow bashfully, "if you''re okay with that. We don''t have to if you don''t want to."


    "...It''s my job. So don''t worry about it."


    Aire nodded approvingly. "I admire your sense of duty, White Mage. Very well! We shall depart for the next slime nest post haste!"


    She poked two fingers over her lips and blew a loud, sharp whistle. Then, a fair distance away, two riding birds popped out of the bushes. They chirped. Chirped and chirped and chirped, running toward them while flapping their happy wings. They were eye-catchingly pink and fluffy, like flamingo cousins of ostriches, big and fast enough to almost tackle Anne and Aire to the ground.


    "Woah there, Quartz! Ahaha!" Aire laughed as one of them peppered her with light pecks, tickling and checking her all over. "I''m okay, boy. See? Not a scratch!"


    Even though she hadn''t been in the frontlines, Anne''s riding bird kept going in circles, stroking at her shoulders, before snuggling against her head. Anne smiled and returned the gesture with a stroke of her own. "Okay, Ruby. We still have a long way to go. Can you please carry the White Mage and I along again?"


    The mention of the White Mage broke it out of its reverie. It was shuddering, squeaking. The big bird ran around Anne and hid its face behind her back.


    "There, there, Ruby. The White Mage is not a scary person."


    Ruby peaked over the maid''s shoulder. She looked at Willow, looked at her beaten and worn staff fixed with a viciously sharp end, and went back to hiding behind the maid, shaking her head.


    "Pretty please? For me?"


    Again, she shook her head.


    "I could just walk this time," Willow offered.


    "No, we couldn''t do that to you. I''m sure Ruby will come around. She''s not always so..."


    "Scared? Cowardly?"


    "D-Don''t say it like that! It would hurt their self-esteem!" Anne cupped Ruby''s head and began stroking. "Cherubs are quite sensitive, so please be patient with her."


    Cherubs, the Birds of Elopement.


    If the Humblewings were the most violent birds of them all, then the Cherubs were the most cowardly. They''re the kind of birds that Bards sang and laughed about. With their never-ending endurance and powerful legs, they gather up everything they love and flee to high heaven the second they sense danger, ignoring all other orders.


    The number of loving couples they''ve accidently helped to elope was legendary.


    Most people preferred it this way. Caravans employ Cherubs to protect their goods and owners, and they always had the senses to find the nearest safe haven. Willow rode on plenty to know how they tick.


    Enough to know that they really, really don''t like her.


    Eventually, the riding birds settled down. Aire and Anne were atop their mounts, the one named Ruby now convinced for the fifth time today that Willow was totally a harmless person. However long that would last.


    Anne held out her hand. "Okay. Now''s your chance before she loses it again, Miss White Mage."


    Willow stared at the girl''s bare hand for a moment before nodding and accepting the offer. She stepped awkwardly onto the Cherub, managing to mount and then clutch at Anne''s waist just as the riding bird gave one more worried glance toward her back.


    The maid giggled proudly, taking up the reins. "Good girl. See? Was that so bad?"


    Her animal just let out a depressed cry, her wings raised like how a mopey child''s shoulders would when they crossed their arms, a gesture almost comical coming from a bird the size of a small cow.


    Anne stifled another laugh. When the bird finally composed herself and relaxed, the maid gave a light kick and then they were running.


    The river was beautiful at this hour. The flowing waters sparkled under the sunlight, so clean and clear that anyone would''ve been tempted to swim in it if not for the man-eating slimes. As they rode down the path along the river, the girl''s words nearly escaped Willow by how soft and distant they were.


    "It''s amazing, isn''t?" Anne murmured. "Even while tainted by Demontide, so close to the Evil Lake, the slimes still kept the river water clean. Despite their nature, they at least cared for the world around them."


    Willow hummed. "Have you seen a Monster Spawner before?"


    "Oh! Um," Anne stuttered, like she wasn''t expecting a response. "I have not."


    "Then you might change your mind. The things Demontide would do... It''s not pretty."


    "Even so..." There was something heavy in her voice¡ªa shudder that threatened to spill out of her chest like a crack in a dam. Her gaze was on the sparkling river, filled with a will far out of place for a mere maid. "Even so, I wish this same sight could be shared everywhere else in Rosarium."


    Willow''s eyes narrowed. "...Are they still trashing the river at the capital?"


    Anne snapped out of it, back to being the subservient and out-of-her-depth maid she was supposed to be, a brief tremble in her eyes. She faced the road, hiding her expression from view, but not before the White Mage caught the slightest glimpse of a blush.


    "Please excuse me. I have spoken too much, haven''t I?" A pause. "Are you sure you have no relation to the nobility? Not even the royal family?"


    "I''m sure."


    "But your hair..."


    ...Ah.


    So that''s how it is.


    "My hair was originally brown," Willow spoke slowly. "It all started from a...magical incident. It had turned whiter ever since."


    "Oh. What happened?"


    Willow went quiet. It was a loaded question about a time she never wanted to think about again. A lot of things had happened. But if she had to sum it all up in the neatest, vaguest way possible, then...


    "Let''s just say I got too proud of myself and was reminded I wasn''t really the main character of this story." She shrugged. "Typical wizard things. A tale as old as time."


    "...I''m sorry."


    Willow rolled her eyes. "Don''t worry about it."


    A strange conversation with an even stranger maid. Then again, if her [Mana Sense] was up to par, an ordinary maid wouldn''t be running a spell over her hair, nor would they be throwing around competent wind spells while serving a house renowned for their martial arts, not without access to a magical education.


    Anne had too much going on with her just to be Aire''s accessory.


    "What about you?" Willow asked. "Are you related to nobility? I''m sure a few bards must''ve tried to flirt with you, at least."


    "A-are you teasing me? You''re teasing me, aren''t you?" Anne tried to look composed, but the hunch in her shoulders was too obvious. "I assure you, I am merely a maid attendant, following my Lady Aire to handle her every need. Nothing more, nothing less. But... I am flattered..."


    "...Whatever you say, princess."

 006

    <div>


    The Second Wall was like a replica of Risadel''s First Wall. Unlike the First Wall, everything here was bare and decrepit. The docking areas were destroyed in the aftermath of the last Monster Wave, and whatever brick and wood that remained had long since rotted away. A bridge still connected the two sides of the river, but it''s held up together by hopes and a dream¡ªanything more than five people could topple the delicate balance and bring an end to decades of vigil.


    Under the shadows of the Second Wall, the facilities that once housed Rosarium troops and adventurers lie empty and quiet. Half of a flag still hung from the triangular roof top of a building, still singing its lonesome song of patriotism with what little wind it could catch. It rang hollow amidst the decay.


    The massive arch of the Second Wall, cradling the shattered remains of the gigantic river gate, which once served as an on-demand dam, obediently allowed the river passage into the Evil Lake beyond, like a broken loser forced to feed its oppressor. Even the Second Wall itself was littered in moss and vegetation.


    The party was trotting down the brick-paved road on their bird mounts, slowly taking it all in. Aire took point while Anna and Willow followed closely behind. Everyone kept their eyes and ears peeled; there were enough abandoned structures around for monsters to cultivate their nests. Though Willow had already sent a ''pulse check'' for hostiles, it paid to be careful.


    Willow noted how the Magic Fencer and Wind Mage''s faces turned solemn at the sights, a certain maid especially. For most adventurers, it was old history, just a curio on the map to remind them of the cruel inevitability of the Evil Lake. But Anne seemed to take something deeply personal from the state of the Second Wall as she looked on in unblinking horror.


    "How could this be?" Anne whispered. "When the Kingdom claimed how the old adventurers of Roxidel still lived, that the fortress would stand among the finest and proudest against the Evil Lake, I had imagined a place where valor would burn as bright as that of Venfort. But this..."


    "It''s considered bad luck to say the name of a fallen fortress," Willow warned. "I don''t mind it, but others will. Try not to make it a habit while you''re here in Risadel."


    "I-I''ll keep that in mind."


    Somewhere along the river, something finally gave out and rubble splashed into the waters below. Quartz and Ruby, the riding birds, let out a startled cry before their owners soothed their hackled feathers and told them there was nothing to worry about.


    "Disgraceful," Aire said, and for once she had set aside her heroic posturing. "Were there not enough soldiers to spare? Without anyone manning the Second and Third Walls, Risadel is down to its last line of defense. How could anyone by the First Wall live comfortably like this?"


    "We don''t," Willow said. "Risadel was... doing relatively okay as a trading hub before the Wild Hunt appeared and cut us off from the mainland. The guild is struggling to organize a response. Now, we''re just waiting for help from Providence to arrive and to organize a hunt to take back the roads. Fingers crossed we could still feed everyone before then."


    There was a fissure in the road. Everyone had to hang on as the riding birds gave it a hop, a skip, and a jump. A few bricks cracked upon landing, and there was a slight stumble before their training kicked in and they extended their wings, righting themselves with a flap.


    Aire relaxed the reins. "But if misfortune befalls Risadel and a Monster Wave appears..."


    Willow shrugged. "Then I guess we''ll die."


    It got quiet for a moment. From where the White Mage sat, her two charges shared a concerned look¡ªand mimicking their owners, so did Ruby and Quartz¡ªbefore Anne bit her lips, her eyes downcast under her bangs. "And what of the other branches of Dragon Tale?"


    "Don''t know. Same for the rest of the Support Corps: they''re either too busy or too far away. Everyone has their own problems, after all."


    "I heard parties like the Azure Dragons travel around the Kingdom to alleviate pressure at the battlefront." Anne seemed to be talking to herself as her voice lowered into a barely audible utterance. "Maybe if we send a letter, we could..."


    "Like you two?"


    "H-Huh? What do you mean?"


    "Neither of you were exactly inconspicuous. Let''s just say even Master Gerald had heard about you two."


    The maid flushed. "Oh, dear..."


    Aire laughed. "It seems that our efforts shine through even in this gloomy corner of Rosarium. Why, perhaps they could use a speech! ''Even if the walls were broken, the valiant shall never fall,'' that''s what I would say!"


    "Quoting Master Hera of Venfort, are we?" Willow droned. "At least she had a full three Walls to work with."


    "Confidence, friend. It''s all about confidence! Rosarium did not hold the Evil Lake at bay for hundreds of years with mere tactics and an iron heart." Aire grinned and thumped her fist onto her chest plate. "Have some wonder. I''ll make you a true paramour of the literary arts yet!"


    Willow looked over Anne''s shoulder to quirk a brow at the Magic Fencer. "Even if it''s from wrist-deep inside teeth and monster guts?"


    "Even then! We''ll start by slaying the foul beasts that infest these sacred lands!"


    "...Well," Willow pointed. "You might''ve spoken too soon."


    Because the moss on the Second Wall? It wasn''t moss.


    They were close enough now to actually see it, feel it. The air had grown stale, and the color of the water had turned dark. The river moved like molasses, passing under the bridge and toward the mouth of the Second Wall.


    It was pitch-black, oozing, and it was scattered around the mouth of the Second Wall like mold¡ªan infestation.


    Things emerged from the Demontide.


    Arms and legs tried to pull themselves out, but it was like they''re growing from the Second Wall itself. Some fell into the water. Some managed to cling unto the stone and swing themselves unto land, where the fresh ichor dripped from their bodies and corrupted the ground.


    They raised their reptilian-like heads and snarled with red, beady eyes.


    "Kobolds, huh?" Willow muttered.


    "T-That''s a Monster Spawner?" Anne looked ill, struggling to even keep her eyes up. "It''s hideous..."


    Ruby, sensing the agitation of her owner, dug its feet against the ground. Willow had to clutch the bird''s tail feathers to keep herself from slipping off.


    "This wasn''t in the report," Aire whispered, her eyes hardening.


    "It wasn''t," Willow said. "Must''ve appeared just today..."


    Monsters often appeared around the Second and Third Walls. The guild made sure teams were often sent out to clear them to ensure the safety of Sailors coming in from Sarnaught. The Sailors had it hard enough over there, or so Secretary Layla had once said.


    This was supposed to be a routine quest. Just their luck that there''s suddenly a Monster Spawner.


    Willow sighed. The guild wasn''t going to like this. "Let''s head back," she said. "We''ll organize a raid team, and, hopefully, we could have this resolved by next¡ªwhy are you two looking at each other like that?"


    The kobolds had seen them. As if their presence had triggered an immune response, more kept on spawning; the river rippled with the bodies of their kin, and the Second Wall soon had a dozen running at them with even more on the way. They were like rabid animals, too newly formed to have a functioning mind.


    But neither Aire nor Anne budged. They nodded, coming to an unspoken agreement, and...began to dismount.


    Willow shook her head in disbelief.


    "No. No. We are not doing this."


    "Oh, we are." Aire had swung her hips off of Quartz with a flourish, landing perfectly on her feet. "And we will! It would besmirch my good name to turn my back on this injustice!"


    "You said it yourself: the guild is struggling," Anne said. She had Aire''s help coming down, barely keeping her own cloak from getting caught on the saddle. "We cannot in good conscience allow Risadel to burden itself anymore than it already has. We must handle this ourselves, here and now, before the Demontide spreads."


    The maid was leafing through the saddlebag under Ruby''s wing. She picked out two potions, securing them to a belt over her skirt before closing the bag with a quick snap. Ruby was fidgeting the entire time, watching the kobolds. Poor girl was about ready to bolt at any moment.


    "How about a vote?" Willow blurted. "Your birds seem to disagree, and so do I. That makes three to two in favor of us packing up and going home. Vote over¡ªlet''s go."


    "But they haven''t tried to run away yet. Isn''t that right, my brave little Ruby?" Anne tussled the Cherub''s cheeks and giggled, like there''s absolutely nothing in the world that''s out to kill her. "That makes four to one in favor of monster-slaying. Sorry, Miss White Mage."


    Oh, come on! What happened to the shy and uncertain maid from earlier?!


    This was their first Monster Spawner encounter, so they might not yet appreciate how fast these things proliferate. Raid teams normally needed to be big enough to wipe them out in one go because, once they''re threatened, the monster spawning would not stop. It was like disturbing an ant hill.


    Willow was supposed to keep these two out of trouble, and here they were on their first quest together, already about to dive headlong into a crowd of kobolds like they''re battle maniacs going out of fashion!


    "This is stupid," Willow hissed. "Really, really stupid."


    For whatever reason, Aire beamed with delight. She brandished her fencing sword and charged into the fray, screaming, "Better a fool in the present than a genius in the past, my wise ol'' frieeend!"


    "Quoting the Great Hero Gram¡ªFalbion the Wise had to save him from wyverns after he said that!"


    After making sure her cloak was properly secured, Anne shouldered her wooden staff. She looked up at Willow without a single doubt or fear in her eyes. It was enough to silence whatever else the White Mage was going to say. "We won''t force you to follow us. We''re more than capable of handling this much ourselves," she said, before turning with a swish of her cloak. "Stay with the Cherubs! They''ll protect you¡ªhold on, Aire! [Wind Wall]!"


    With both the Rusties already in the fight, Willow was left sitting there on Ruby''s back.


    Slowly, Ruby and Quartz looked over their backs at the White Mage, faces chiseled in abject terror. Anyone else could tell they did not want to be alone with her. At all.


    Her eye twitched. A thin, straight line was drawn across Willow''s lips.


    "...I''ll be sure to bring your owners back alive, you two," she finally said, before swinging herself off.


    For once, the Cherubs sounded so grateful as they ran away to find some place to hide with a cowardly cry.


    <hr>


    Aire''s red braid swung to the rhythm of her blade as she sliced and diced the kobolds like they were vegetables on the platter. A grin grew from her lips, like she''s thinking of something else, and not a thought was spared for the monsters in front of her.


    They used the same tactic for the slimes: Anne cast her [Wind Walls], funneling the monsters into a single point, while Aire dueled each kobold to death in honorable combat. She kept her distance fair and measured. Only the very tip of her orange-glowing blade needed to be bloodied.


    The kobolds just ran at her. No tactics. No self-preservation. They didn''t have the ubiquity of the river slime to thwart her senses.


    But it''s exactly because of that they were a different kind of dangerous.


    A kobold skewered itself into her sword. Then a second. Then a third. The Magic Fencer''s rhythm broke momentarily, and that was enough for a kobold to go in and take a swipe.


    "Woah!"


    Aire retched her blade free to leap back, but it allowed the kobolds to break through the chokehold, swarming the space she was trying to lock down.


    "Oho! In that case..."


    Power coursed through her limbs from her core. She cocked her blade back, ready to slash them down all at once as the name of the Skill was at the tip of her lips, and she¡ª!


    "[Barrier]."


    The kobolds broke their snouts against a magical wall.


    "...I''m really mad at you two," Willow said, and she planted her glowing staff on the ground, and the barrier widened, encompassing the length of both of Anne''s wind walls. "But since we''re actually doing this, I''ll need you all right where I can see you. Or Goddess, help me."The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    "Oh? Oh! A line from the Saintess Uriel!" Aire barely seemed to have held back a squeal. "Is this a declaration of friendship? Is this the ideal bookworm-to-bookworm correspondence I''ve heard so much about?! Then I accept!"


    "What? No! I said that specifically to convey my disappointment in you two!"


    "Still," Anne smiled warmly beside the White Mage. "Thank you for joining us."


    "Thank me after this is over."


    With a twirl of her staff, the White Mage''s barrier moved like a hinged door. With the kobolds all gathered up, they were unceremoniously swept into the river bank below.


    Anne was about to follow up, pointing her staff over the edge, ready to shred them into pieces with a Gale Cutter, but paused. "Huh? Why are there so many?"


    It seemed the kobolds who fell into water when they first spawned hadn''t drowned. Now they were crawling out of the water. The river bank was full of the snarling reptilians, jumping and snapping up at the party. Soon, there would be enough of them to use each other as a ladder and rise over the stone walls. More had gathered further up the river to cut off their escape.


    Well, these little guys were a bit more capable than she thought.


    Willow closed her eyes and sent down a "pulse."


    The thin echo of mana swept through the rocks and the water. Down the river. Across the Second Wall. And beyond that. Then, all the signatures she could search returned as faint pings on her staff''s crystal receptacle.


    "That strange spell again..." Anne muttered. "Miss White Mage, how many do you see?"


    Willow opened her eyes. "Thirty of them on land and rising. Sixty are still swimming in the river. And a very big one. Good news? There are no other monsters further out. We have the entire Second Wall to work with if we play this right." Her gaze flickered from the river to the next batch of kobolds down the path. "This place is too open. Wind Mage, if you please?"


    "Of course! [Gale Cutter]!"


    The kobolds were shot down with fine accuracy. Razor-sharp blades of wind had bisected most and severely injured others. With nothing to follow them for now, Willow waved them over into a narrow alley and squeezed themselves through.


    They winded through the abandoned buildings, lunging over the debris and the rubble. Some of the paths had broken or were blocked by fallen walls, but Willow navigated through the place like it''s the back of her hand.


    "You know the way?" Anne asked.


    "It''s the same layout as the First Wall." The White Mage took a sharp corner, and the path widened enough for them to pick up the pace. "We''re going around and then up. Use the stairs to funnel them. We''ll do something about the Monster Spawner while Aire keeps the kobolds off our backs. The big one sleeping in the river will be for last."


    The White Mage quickly glanced over her shoulder to check if they''re still following.


    The Magic Fencer was steadily striding along. Not even breaking a sweat. Whatever family training she had undergone, it''s serving her well. But with all those sparkles in her eyes, was her head even in the game?


    The maid was faltering a bit, breathing hard from all the running, but there was a bright look in her eyes. She''ll be fine for now.


    The two were quick to fall in line when she stole the lead. If everything went as planned, then hopefully¡ª


    "I wonder... If Lady Aire is like Gram the Great Hero," Anne said, "then wouldn''t that make you Falbion the Wise?"


    Willow almost tripped. She swung her arms, flailing like a newborn chick, before righting herself with a firm stomp on a whole piece of a walk-way. "Are you trying to curse me? Falbion died of overwork at the end of the story!"


    "S-She gets it!" Why was Aire suddenly holding back a sob? "She really gets it! So few people understood one of Falbion''s most tragic flaws!" She skipped over a piece of rubble, but it''s more like a girlish leap of joy. "We are going to be the best of friends, you and I!"


    "No we won''t..."


    "It''s okay to be embarrassed~!"


    "I''m not!"


    They had lost the kobolds through the twists and turns, and what few they happened upon, a stab of Aire''s fencing sword earned their silence. Toward the end, they reached the massive face of the Second Wall itself. From there, it was a straight dash toward one of the stairs leading to the top of the Second Wall.


    Fresh kobolds had just spawned when they got there. It took a moment for their eyes to form, and when they saw them, they fell down the stairs with their malformed limbs.


    "Make way!"


    Aire ran ahead, picking up speed, and pushed her feet against the ground hard enough for it to crack! She was airborne as she took aim with the point of her blade.


    "[Needle Stab]!"


    A thrust here and a thrust there, the range of her blade extended at each instant. When her heels clicked at the top of the first set of stairs, the perfectly headless bodies of kobolds slumped down the steps.


    Anne and the White Mage joined her up the steps.


    The new vantage point gave them a much clearer view of the Second Wall''s facilities. Monsters were still climbing out of the river channel. Those that finally touched proper ground had entered the alleys, following the ones who were still blindly searching for her and her party. None would''ve ever thought there was anyone crazy enough to run straight toward the Monster Spawners.


    But as they drew near the tainted spots on the Second Wall, it felt like moving against frigid, dead air.


    The White Mage huffed. "This should be close enough. Anne?"


    Anne took a deep breath and nodded. She raised a hand. It''s shaking.


    Nobody could blame her.


    The ''holes'' of Demontide above them warbled, as if there were entire legions of demons just waiting beyond them. It was eldritch, baleful, and profane. Just being around it made Willow''s skin crawl. and looking at it made her want to throw up. This thing could not, should not, be cleansed by mortal hands.


    But Kyaeris wouldn''t have given the children of Crescelias the sacred mission to rid the world of Demontide without guidance.


    "O Goddess, hear my voice through the Divine Glass..." Anne whispered. "[Karma]!"


    [Karma]


    1113


    <div>


    Calling upon one of the four gifts of the Goddess, Anne''s Divine Glass made manifest.


    The world''s System answered her prayers.


    Corruption detected.


    Initializing [Purification Ritual].


    Please stand by.


    <div>


    The System window folded. It took shape and rearranged itself with triangular faces, gently, softly, until a crystalline mass as transparent as an abstract glass sculpture was formed. Inside: a light.


    The Demontide recoiled from its majesty.


    Anne lifted the crystal into the air, like an offering toward the heavens. There was no running away from the judgment of the Goddess. The Demontide eroded into firefly-like motes wherever the light touched. Bit by bit, mankind was taking back the Second Wall.


    The monster felt it, too. Their heads swiveled their way. All of them.


    The air shuddered from the sheer volume of their combined snarls. The ground trembled, the rabid cries of kobolds growing louder and louder as the bulk of their numbers circled back around.


    Aire audibly gulped. "White Mage, do we know how long the Purification Ritual will take, perhaps?"


    "Ten minutes if the spread is superficial. But if we''re unlucky and it''s deep inside the Wall? Up to three hours." Willow really wished they had more people to help speed things up, but what''s done was done. "Hope you two are feeling lucky, because I certainly don''t."


    "...Lucky? On this fine day, a fateful meeting with a new friend?"


    "Are you still on with that?"


    "Why, I feel like I''m the luckiest woman in the world!" Aire dashed down the stairs to greet the foul beasts with the tip of her mighty sword. "When we achieve victory, let''s talk about our favorite books together on our return! En Garde~!"


    Willow wanted to smack herself with her own staff. A death flag. Why must she trigger a death flag?


    Well, wasn''t that just great! What else was going to go wrong today this time?!


    "Um..."


    Willow turned to Anne, who was looking up, trembling.


    "They''re still coming out!"


    Even though the karmic light had reversed its spread, there was still enough Demontide to summon monsters. Limbs wriggled out of the holes and spazzed about. Another batch of kobolds would be upon them soon. And to make matters worse, Aire was already occupied with the swarm of kobolds down below.


    The White Mage simply adjusted the grip on her staff. "Don''t worry about it."


    The kobolds fully took shape. Three fell into the water but two managed to slam right on top of the stone railings. Anne stepped back. She raised her wooden staff to invoke a Skill even if it meant canceling the Purification Ritual. But the White Mage?


    "Miss White Mage, step back¡ª!"


    The White Mage stepped forward. Her staff cratered each of their heads, coldly and methodically. The river splashed with their fallen bodies.


    "...Eh?"


    "Like I said, don''t worry about it."


    Sighing, she wiped the bits of blood off her forehead. This was going to be tough, but to keep Aire from getting overwhelmed too soon, she''ll need to be more proactive.


    "[Barrier]."


    Hefting herself up on the stone railing, she gave a tentative step on the magical plane. It held up. Of course it did; it always did, but damn did it feel like she was a mistake away from falling to her death. With an uneasy breath, she raised herself up along the barrier until she''s face to face with the Monster Spawners themselves.


    Time to play Wack-A-Mole.


    Willow wacked, smacked, and smashed. The icky feeling was the worst, with how close she got or how some bits of ichor got on her. But Anne''s light wiped it off, thankfully, and Willow had been drenched in monster guts enough times that, at this point, what did it matter she''s beating the shit out of the devil''s puke hole?


    The kobolds had no weapons to speak of. No armor to defend against Aire''s enhanced blade or Willow''s crude application of her magic staff. Hearing the dramatic battle cries of Aire dueling over countless kobolds at the stair steps, it was safe to say she was doing fine. Absolutely fine.


    Glad for her. Really.


    The minutes dragged on. Willow eventually had a steady rhythm going. She made more platforms, reaching higher and further places along the Monster Spawner, and executed with extreme prejudice. Kobolds barely had half their bodies formed before perishing under the weight of her staff.


    One kobold, growing out with its head first and moaning with its unhinged jaw, was about to bite her ankle. Willow just lifted her foot and shoved it back in there. But for the one that had the audacity to spawn at the complete opposite of the Monster Spawner, she kicked its head right off! She frantically ran back and forth like this even when her limbs started to ache.


    She liked to think her spawn camping had kept up with Aire''s kill count. Frankly, she lost track after a hundred. They probably rack up over three hundred and still rising all together as they chipped away at the corruption.


    But the Purification Ritual was working. The Monster Spawners had shrunk, and the spawn rate had slowed down. Just a little bit more, and her work space should also...


    A thump shook the air, like a heartbeat.


    It came from the biggest stain on the Second Wall, the one that was the slowest for the Purification Ritual to cleanse away. The Demontide had decided to switch things up as something other than a kobold began to emerge.


    It was only just a head, but it was already the size of an adult. Scales, ridges, and a horn on its nose took shape. The eyes were still gooey and glassy, but Willow could make out the serpentine slits of its pupils, swiveling until they looked down on her, promising death and damnation and¡ª


    ¡ªthey went cross-eyed, bashed in the face by Willow''s new barrier.


    "No! No final boss fight! Your main character is in another damn castle!"


    Willow had to disperse the other platforms and ignore everything else to put all of her energy into preventing a real ass god damn dragon from crawling out of the Monster Spawner.


    "Miss White Mage?!" Anne cried.


    "Just! Peachy!" Willow grunted. The barrier shuddered against the dragon head''s weight. "How''s everything down there?!"


    "There''s too many! The kobolds are piling up along the stairs and might go over the railing!"


    Willow tore her eyes away to look. Every monster the Magic Fencer had killed or pushed back, the bodies were used as stepping stones. Aire had to give ground to avoid getting overwhelmed, and Anne can''t let up on the purifying, or else the monsters will keep on spawning.


    "Fret not! This is nothing!"


    Aire twirled her sword like a wand, and its orange glow burst into flames.


    "[Flame Waltz]!"


    In a single sweep, a whirlwind of fire engulfed the kobolds. Those closest to Aire were reduced to charred corpses and set the rest on fire. The Skill was still going¡ªthe blade swung to and fro like a music conductor''s baton, guiding the flames to the flow of a mesmerizing orchestra. Kobolds were caught up in its wake. Then at the crescendo, she made one final swing, and a combustive force blew them all away.


    Willow felt herself sweat from the heat. So this was where their confidence came from...


    It looked like it worked. They screamed in agony. The pile of bodies burned, and the flame kept the monsters at bay. This should''ve bought them enough time to finish the job.


    Instead, in a suicidal rage, they ran themselves through the fire and trudged on like zombies.


    Flaming Kamikaze Kobolds.


    Wonderful.


    Aire took a step back from the heat, a sheepish grin on her face. "...Apologies, but it appears that I made it worse."


    "Aire, you dummy!" Anne wailed.


    But it gave Willow an idea.


    The kobolds¡ªthey still hadn''t developed a functioning mind, but at least their bodies were well-formed, with none of that Demontide holding them together. Now they relied on the laws of physics and their own biology to function.


    She can work with this.


    "Everyone! When I give the signal, hold your breaths and don''t breathe until I tell you to!"


    Willow reached into her waist pack and pulled out a mana potion. She popped out the cork, then down the hatch. She swallowed and pulled herself into a different world.


    Ignore the dragon''s pressure on the barrier.


    Tune out the noise.


    Filter the stench.


    Focus.


    Mana welled up in her core, restoring her reserves the very instant the potion reached her gut. They were all put to work without a second to lose.


    She sent out a series of magical pulses: the first to establish her area of effect, the second to pinpoint her targets, and the third and fourth to formulate her spell.


    She still remembered her time in the Collegium. It was something she picked up, something that was meant for a different spell, a different person. A pale imitation at best. But she supposed this, too, was a valid enough application.


    Finally, with the fifth pulse, she pushed a chunk of her mana into the spell work and pulled the trigger.


    "Now! [Mass Synthesis]!"


    The heat disappeared. The flames on the corpses, on the kobolds: gone. The horde still moved for a few seconds before they suddenly gasped, wheezed, and then collapsed like broken dolls, a white mist wafting out of their mouths and frost forming at the corner of their lips. The newer kobolds who arrived would mysteriously meet the same fate no more than ten steps later.


    Anne and Aire watched, mystified, covering their mouths and holding their breaths at Willow''s instructions.


    The phenomenon lasted five full minutes. Willow thanked the superhuman constitution of this world''s denizens, or they probably would''ve passed out holding their breath after three.


    The Demontide had been mostly cleared away in that time. The dragon head, unable to sustain itself, slowly began to lose cohesion.


    The party had to wait a little while longer before the white mist thinned out or settled lower toward ground level. By then, the last of the kobolds had been slain, the dragon head had broken apart, and the Purification Ritual was finishing off the last big spot of the Monster Spawner on the Second Wall where, at some point, it had seemingly given up and stopped spawning.


    Willow relaxed. Jumping off the barrier platform, her boots joined the stairs, and she canceled the barriers.


    "...Okay, we''re good now."


    The girls let out a greedy gasp.


    "W-What was that?" Anne asked. "Ice? Poison? There were no alchemic ingredients; I never knew Synthesis could still make such an effect!"


    "It''s...both. The details would take a while to explain."


    After all, this world had yet to figure out the periodic table. The scholars here favored the magical sciences over the physical ones, so she supposed knowledge gaps were expected.


    Willow had turned the oxygen into dry ice. She could''ve used the deadlier carbon monoxide¡ªbut she rather the party leave this place alive, her included. Carbon dioxide worked well enough, poisonous at high enough concentrations. But it seemed like most of the deaths were actually from when the dry ice froze and destroyed their lungs, instead of suffocation like she intended, if the blood dripping from their mouths meant anything.


    "W-Wait, really? You''ll actually tell?"


    Sparkles. The same kind the Magic Fencer always had in her eyes every time she talked about legendary heroes. Willow tried to step back, but the Wind Mage took two with an intense look on her face.


    "Uh..." Willow''s eyes trailed aside. Aire was grinning, shaking her fists like she''s cheering the maid on. "Yes¡ª?"


    Anne got too close! Way too close! Willow''s back touched the wall of the fort. Anne''s arms had trapped her from both sides, making sure she didn''t escape. The karmic crystal used to purify the Demontide was right up to Willow''s face like an interrogation light, the maid breathing so deeply she thought she would pass out.


    "You''ll answer any of my questions? You won''t withhold information like all mages of the Collegium do? You won''t refuse me if I ask you to teach me?"


    "Y-Yeah, sure, so if you''ll please¡ª!"


    Anne grabbed her face, squishing her cheek. "You will?!"


    "Anne, you were supposed to be the sane one!"


    The river exploded.


    A gelatinous liquid smashed against the part of the Second Wall that was still being purified, pulverizing the surrounding brick and stone. It stretched back¡ªalong with the entire chunk of the wall. Again, the river exploded. The surface bubbled, the waves rippled back and forth, like normal, until it suddenly flattened out.


    Then the water the began to rise.


    Aire worked her jaw. "...You said there was another we must save for last, correct?"


    Higher.


    "Yes," Willow squinted. "It would explain why there were no monsters before we came."


    Higher.


    "Had it been sleeping in the river bed this whole time?" Anne breathed. "Even while kobolds swam? And nobody noticed?"


    Higher.


    "Mhm. And I think it woke up just in time for lunch."


    It squeezed in itself. Through the semi-transparent material, they could see the chunk of Demontide churning in its bowels. The entire thing completely dissolved, leaving behind the pitch-black mass. But then it vibrated. Like an infant dissatisfied with its food, it smacked the water in front of it.


    A shadow cast over them.


    Willow smacked her lips. "...We should run."


    And they did¡ªright before the Giant Slime crashed into the steps they were just on.

 007

    <div>


    To say Frederick''s party was in trouble was an understatement.


    Frederick stroked the shiny side of his lightning-enchanted sword. He admired his own baby blue eyes in the reflection, at least happy to know that, despite everything, nothing had lost its shine. Lauren was already on her second cup of Salamander Wine, glaring at...something. A bit disheveled, a bit grouchy, lost in her thoughts. Sunni was playing with her food. It was the cheapest on the menu, and her wooden fork prodded at the shriveled piece of tomato. Beside her, a tome of arcane knowledge was laid wide open but forgotten.


    Things were all sunshine and rainbows in Risadel, even better when the Halos Alliance approved funding for the rising number of goblin quests. Frederick leapt at the chance to refill his wallet after that mishap with the White Mage. Thankfully, the girls were perfectly okay with him dragging them here and there.


    Lauren especially. The Archer''s shame would not go away until she killed a thousand goblins and reached the second rank of the [Goblin Slayer] title. As for Sunni, well, Frederick doubted she would leave the Archer''s side anytime soon. He had no idea when or how it had happened, but the two seemed to have gotten close this past week.


    Things could still turn around then. He would make things right. He ran the numbers, counted the dates. He would speed through all the elimination quests, continue to cultivate his appeal, and make it through this dark period. He would come out on top as the guy the girls could fawn all over and depend on¡ªand forget all about how he got knocked out by a rock!


    But the Wild Hunt ruined everything.


    "This sucks!" Lauren folded like she was a dirty piece of laundry. Completely unladylike, with how she propped up her chest on the tabletop, but Frederick wasn''t going to complain. "Are there really no other jobs? I don''t care if it''s more goblins; I''m sick and tired of gathering herbs for that creepy granny at the Alchemist''s shop!"


    Frederick had not thought much of it when the news broke out. They were busy with another goblin quest. But when they got back, many elimination quests had been canceled. Too dangerous and unknown, the receptionists had said. They''re slated to be reevaluated, maybe rising up to Silver and even Gold.


    The urgent quests remained on the board. Some of the pay was decent, but only for those whose skills and experience were good enough to make it work. Frederick''s party would waste more on time and potions than the reward was worth. The best-paying ones required a party of four and over. And, well...


    Nobody wanted to party with the group that was carried by a healer.


    They were left with no choice but to sit in the guildhall and rot until it was their turn with a supporter from the Support Corps or things got better.


    Frederick gave his most placating smile. "Hang in there, Lauren. They''ll bring those quests back up any day now. That [Goblin Slayer] title won''t be running anywhere."


    "...You''re lucky you have a pretty face, or I would''ve thrown this at you," Lauren said behind her cup.


    "H-Huh? What did I do?"


    "I dunno, what didn''t you do?" Lauren laid her elbows on the table, leaning. "You couldn''t tell the difference between a Healing Bellflower and a Prickle Pot, and you made the rookie mistake of putting them in the same basket. My poor hands got rashes trying to sort the damn things. I could barely pull a bowstring!"


    "Ah..." Frederick chuckled sheepishly. "At least the Alchemist''s itchy cream made it all better?"


    "Yeah. And, like, what was that last goblin quest? You were so deep into the thick of it that Sunni couldn''t fire off a [Fireball]. I had to help her wack away the goblins! With my bow! Then you got in the way of my last shot against the hobgoblin, and because you took too long to kill it, the goblins nearby came along, and we had to book it because there were too many!"


    Wait, that was what happened? Frederick hadn''t even noticed, thinking that if he just assaulted the entire camp with his superior weapons and armor, he could prove to the girls that everything was business as usual. All they had to do was sit back and relax. The last thing he recalled was how Lauren dragged him by the collar, telling him to run.


    "I had it all under control," he replied. "We would''ve made it through. I think."


    "Not to mention that big tip you gave to the Merchant when we got back. It was such an obvious suck-up move! I still can''t believe you paid fifty gald!"


    "Have a little more faith in me. If we build a positive relationship with a local driver, we could get discounts to and from Risadel." That, and the Merchant just screamed ''desperate'' when he saw her. Recruiting the White Mage may have been an abject failure, but his roguish charm could still capture another heart or two. Fifty gald was nothing if it meant getting rides for free one day.


    Especially since the Merchant was a cute wolf girl and not some middle-aged man.


    "Whatever you say, handsome. But don''t forget that that''s our money you''re managing. The next time we ride her caravan, tipping is out of the question¡ªOh Goddess." Lauren suddenly clutched her head. The party leader watched as her face morphed from shock to disgust...to horrified. "I sounded like the White Mage just now..."


    Then, whatever else had disappeared behind the beyond-the-horizon stare into the void.


    This was bad. It seemed that quest had affected her more than he thought. Lauren was beginning to question his command. At least he still had the party''s wallflower to fall back on.


    "What about you, Sunni? Were you able to get your staff checked?"


    The tomato slipped under Sunni''s fork and landed on the arcane tome. Somehow, the skin had split, spilling its juices. The Fire Mage''s lips shuddered as she stared at the stain on the pages.


    "Um, there weren''t many experts besides the Alchemist shops trying to escape Rosarium''s potion taxes and sweatshops. The scary old lady said there''s a fracture in the mana orb, b-but it''s still usable! Just... I just need to be gentler with my spells and..." Sunni used her sleeve to wipe the pages, but, in her panic, she was rubbing too hard and was spreading the damage instead. She whimpered. "Unless I have the money, I might have to use my staff like a mace soon..."


    "...Huh?" Frederick felt goosebumps, a premonition so ominous that he looked between Lauren and Sunni in stone-cold disbelief. Because there was just no way.


    ...Could it?


    The doors of the guildhall swung open.


    Almost no light passed through, and what little that did could only draw the silhouette of a massive, muscular frame and the very tips of ox horns as thick as a grown man''s arms sprouting from the head. The man squeezed through the opening, having to step in sideways for his broad shoulders to pass.


    Frederick''s jaw dropped when he saw the state of him: the man''s entire right half was covered in blood. Everything from the knuckles of his fist to everything below his shoulder was drenched, like he had punched through an ogre. His jaw dropped even further when he saw the thing he was lugging over his back.


    It was a gargantuan tentacle from a lake monster. All the purplish scales and pale suckers were all plain to see, the severed stump having been drained of blood a while ago, and so big was the entire thing that, if it weren''t for the slick skin, it would''ve gotten stuck on the frame.


    Frederick and his party gawked as the man marched up to a female receptionist, who had barely looked up at all as if it was just the most common occurrence in town.


    "Found this bastard crawling along the beachside." The ox-horned man''s voice boomed throughout the guildhall. "Tell the cooks we''re having kraken stew on the menu and that there''s more waiting in the dismantling house. This oughta keep us fed for the week."


    "Yes, sir," the receptionist droned. She began writing a note. "I''ll inform Secretary Layla¡ª"


    "Please. Don''t. She''s probably busy."


    "Then bring it into the kitchen. They''ll cut it up to be stored in the freezer."


    Frederick felt himself sweating as the man easily dragged the carcass toward the kitchen. The way the massive tentacle looped around had blocked the entire view of the mess hall. Did he say the rest was in the dismantling house? He could only imagine how ginormous the whole monster must be.


    Lauren''s eyes followed the trail of slime the tentacle left in its wake, lips twisting into an ick. "I hope the guild cleans this up because I am not stepping on that. Who even was that?"


    "First time, kids?"


    The party turned.


    Sitting alone at the table neighboring theirs was a man, holding a tankard of mead and looking at them in amusement. He seemed geared and ready for a hunt, wrapped in armor plates and a furred mantle. "You''d get used to it. Might even learn to love it, if you have an appetite like the rest of us. There''s nothing quite like a feast after a long, tiring hunt."


    "Yeah, no thanks." Lauren squinted. "Hey. Weren''t you that guy who lost a fistfight to a newcomer a few days back?"


    "...You can call me Jenson." The veteran adventurer sipped from his drink, acting all cool and mysterious if one ignored his receding hairline. "It''s about time you got acquainted with the Master of Risadel. Gerald: former Sailor, a Platinum-ranked adventurer in the flesh. You might know him as the Devil Horns of the Evil Lake."


    Frederick glanced back at where the man himself disappeared to. By now, the entire tentacle had gone through. "Him...? Out here in the boonies?"


    He had heard Bard tales of the Devil Horns; about a man whose fists blasted the waves and whose horns could sever the sins of the abyss, waxing poetry of his vainglorious facial hair. That was the man?


    "Wait, then, isn''t that great?" Lauren lit up. "With him on our side, the Wild Hunt won''t stand a chance! We could go back to having regular old quests again!"


    Jenson shook his head. "Sorry to burst your bubble, but it don''t work like that here in the lakeside. Any guild branch Master of a fort like a Risadel can only take on jobs related to the Evil Lake. If our Master was away while a Monster Wave was happening, well..."


    The words hung in the air. The picture they all had was not pretty.


    "...Still," Frederick began, "he''s the boss, right?"


    "Boss?" Jenson chewed the inside of his mouth. "Sure, he''s the boss. But he''s not exactly the boss."


    Before he could ask what that meant, Frederick heard a thud from where the carcass was dropped off and then blanched as the footsteps returned to the tables of the mess hall. He and the party kept their heads down. Even the veteran adventurer had turned away.


    Master or not, they didn''t want to catch the attention of a man that could fold them like breadsticks. There were plenty of seats around. If they were lucky, the man would choose a far away corner to sit at and...


    It happened in only three steps. The man''s awesome strides cleared the distance without anyone realizing before it was too late.


    Master Gerald took the seat right beside Frederick''s. He rested an elbow on the table¡ªthe bloodied one¡ªand there was a creak so loud that Frederick was sure something was about to snap. The man was looking right at him.


    "New guys, right?" His voice rumbled them to the bones. "Doin'' me a huge favor if ya help me get a drink."


    Frederick looked toward the girls for help. Sunni was already curled into a ball when the man sat down, hiding under her hooded cloak like a turtle. Lauren, meanwhile, had her hand covering her face, wanting no part of this.


    "U-Uh..." Frederick gulped. "Why us? Couldn''t you just...?"


    "I''m not allowed to ask for myself."


    This was the Master of the guild branch itself. Who would believe such a lie?


    Frederick had heard high-ranking adventurers would abuse their status to put others under their thumb, and if they refused, they would be beaten black and blue in an ''accident.'' Was this what he had been warned about?


    This was bad. Frederic couldn''t just let someone walk over him and make him look weak in front of the girls. But look at those arms! They could crush bears in one go! If he said no, there''s no doubt in Frederick''s mind that he might not live to¡ª!


    "I''ll pay." The Master slapped some silver coins on the table. "Hell, I''ll buy anything on the menu for the whole party."


    Frederick instantly rang the waiter bell. "Of course, sir! I''ll get whatever you want! Rubble Rum, Red Grass, Salamander Wine¡ªwhatever wets your whistle! You, too, girls! Me and our new friend here will order a feast for everyone!"


    Sunni peeked out of her hood. "But, it''s not our...?"


    "What are you saying, Sunni? We totally earned this."


    The Fire Mage made a face.


    Frederick didn''t care. If he could win points in his own party without spending a single coin, then he would do it in a heartbeat, and¡ªwhy was Jenson back there wincing?


    "Gahahahaha!" Master Gerald slapped his knee, and the air cracked from the force. "Good! Good! Can''t survive out here without at least a little shamelessness! You just might make it one day, kid! Don''t give me the weak shit; I want the strongest drink we got. And then I''ll¡ª!"


    A manicured hand rested on his shoulder.


    "And then you''ll do what, Gerald? Drop dead drunk?"


    Never before had Frederick seen someone so big and imposing look so constipated. He could practically hear the creaking of his neck as the man named Gerald looked over his shoulder with a side-eye stiffer than a statue.


    "...Secretary Layla. Isn''t business too slow for you to be on waitress duty?"


    "It is. There was just something I found out today, so I finished early and worked down here in the hopes of catching you when you came back. Now..."


    The Secretary''s smile did not reach her eyes.


    "Care to explain how three whole barrels of Salamander Wine are missing from our inventory?"


    <hr>


    Willow wondered a lot of things. From all of her past life to most of her current one, she thought the most excitement she could get up to were the inane politics of her workplace and the novels that caught her eye at the time.


    Then she enrolled in the Collegium. It was all downhill from there.


    Getting carried like a sack of potatoes while chased by a jumping Giant Slime along the Second Wall was a step up from the usual shenanigans. She could at least appreciate the novelty. The same couldn''t be said for her neighbor Anne, who screamed out of her mind every time the slime''s attacks got too close for comfort.


    "I-Is it a King Slime?! A Calamity?! How could a slime be so big?!"


    "I see no crown, so no. Must''ve wandered in from the Evil Lake and chose this place to have a nap and a snack."


    "Why aren''t you freaking out, Miss White Mage?!"


    "It is validating to watch someone else freak out for a change. Very therapeutic. By the way, glad you are normal again, Miss Anne."


    A crash. Another part of the Second Wall was defaced. Anne screamed again, and Aire held their waists extra tight and picked up the pace, her boots digging into the stair steps.


    "Unfortunately, we must tease Little Anne another time! Do you perhaps know a spell that would save us from this predicament?!"


    "I would love to say yes, but..."


    Slimes tended to be the favorite subject of academic Wizards and Alchemists alike, partly because of their bizarre biology¡ªtwo water slimes could have entirely different properties¡ªand partly because they tend to eat everyone''s homework. No magic core. No weak point. It''s held up entirely by surface tension and magical shenanigans. The intelligent solution would be to analyze the opposing slime and then neutralize the damnable things unto the ether.


    Especially the lava ones. Everybody hated the lava ones.


    Too bad she wasn''t built like the mages of the Collegium with their fifty-some Skills casually grinded over the summer break. Unless she was desperate enough to drink her second mana potion, there''s just no silver bullet left in the barrel.


    ...But things were not as desperate as they looked, were they? Even after a horde of kobolds, Aire hardly seemed winded enough to slow down. Her constitution and dexterity stats must be high. Anne, too: despite everything, she still clung firmly to her wooden staff, with mana to spare.


    Willow squinted. "...Can I trust you two?"


    "But of course, friend!" Aire reached the very top of the Second Wall. No more stairs, just a straight sprint. "With every fiber of my being!"


    "If you have a plan, I''ll follow your lead!" Anne yelled.


    "Maybe that''s the wrong question. Can you trust me?"


    "What are you...?" Anne hitched a breath. "Aire! Behind!"


    Somehow, despite its massive body, the Giant Slime had heaved itself up from the stair steps they came from. The Second Wall was not wide enough for it, the parts that failed to fit slumping down the sides, spreading its viscous fluid to get a sticky grip. And it began rolling, rolling, and rolling¡ªsweeping the entire top of the Second Wall, like it was all dust on a shelf, too fast to outrun and too big to avoid. They were about to be trampled.


    Aire, however, grinned.


    "I understand now! Everyone, hang on!" she warned, and right before the Giant Slime ran them over, she jumped.


    Not up, but down.


    Down where the river waited.


    Anne shrieked. "Aire, you dummyyy!"


    The monster refused to let them leave like that. Cracks spread throughout the Second Wall as it forced itself to a stop. Then, multiple slime arms shot out to catch them.


    "[Gale Cutter]!"


    Wind blades severed the slime arm into viscous threads that flew right past and peppered the river below. Then the arm after that. And then the arm after that. Anne kept casting, shredding everything that came after them like a blender, but there were too many threads for them to avoid, trapping them like a cage.


    Willow felt a thread of slime graze her thigh, the corrosive fluid cutting into her clothes. She gritted her teeth. It was now or never. If there was anything she could depend on now, then it was the universal bullshit of this world''s main characters.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    "If you trust me with your life, then stick your foot out!"


    "Like this?!" Aire cried.


    With what little mana Willow had left, she created a tiny barrier right under Aire''s foot. The landing stuck, the foothold rippling like water, and Aire pushed off¡ªright when an entire arm regenerated and consumed where they were before.


    Aire understood the assignment. She stuck her other foot, jumped, then rotated with the next. While Anne''s wind intercepted and delayed the slime''s attacks, the Magic Fencer danced around the split threads with the faith that, wherever she stepped, Willow was there to catch her.


    Willow held her breath the entire time. Calculate the spell. Predict the direction of Aire''s footsteps. Compensate for the delay by casting it ahead of time. A single lapse in attention, a single mistake, could send them plummeting into the river, all the while betting that Aire''s fortitude would carry them through.


    The Giant Slime still on the Second Wall did the unthinkable: with a mighty squelch, it jumped. It rolled and fought through the sky like the fattest bird alive, tracking them, and sailed right over. The slime spread itself like a net, about to catch them on the way down.


    "[Gale Cutter]!"


    Anne carved an opening into the thinnest parts of the membrane. Before it could regenerate, Aire made a mad dash in mid-air to go through the opening, and Willow had to quickly adjust her spellcasting to keep up: One. Two. Three.


    Cleared.


    The cool draft they felt as the Giant Slime fell past them was one of the biggest reliefs. But then it cannonballed into the river¡ªand the massive geyser that formed swatted water up their noses. Everyone sputtered; it was a miracle Aire and Willow managed to correct themselves in time to keep their footing. It was just as they passed through the water that they felt the sudden change in the wind pressure.


    They almost missed it, the gelatinous mass to the side. A dirty right hook.


    Thinking fast, Anne screamed, "[Wind Wall]¡ª!"


    The viscous liquid struck the wind barrier like a hammer. Anne''s spell broke before it could fully form, shattering into a blast of wind¡ªand it was exactly what saved them.


    They were all blown aside, flipped up and down and around, away from the river, and toward solid ground.


    "U-Um, [Wind Wall]!"


    Anne took a page out of Willow''s and cast the spell right before they hit a building. Instead of a platform, it was a cushion. They scraped the rooftops of the facilities. Old roof tiles that once survived an entire Monster Wave had fallen to pieces, but like pillows to the face, they managed to land unharmed.


    Anne had propped herself up on her staff with a groan, unsteady but alive, with tufts of blond hair pointed in all directions. "A-Aire?" She huffed. "Please. Never do that again. I..." She puffed. "I think the maid uniform has another few tears."


    Aire was already back on her feet. She spat out a piece of a roof tile. "A thousand apologies, but when the White Mage spoke of trust, I knew a leap of faith was the most appropriate solution! And it worked! A brilliant bond between companions in life and death! We were in perfect sync, weren''t we, friend?"


    ...


    "...Friend?" When Aire heard no snide remark like she had come to expect from the White Mage, she turned. And found nothing.


    "H-Huh?" Anne''s eyes widened. "Where did she go...?"


    They frantically looked around, trying to find hide or hair of their missing companion. Not on the roofs, not around the streets, not under their feet¡ªgone. Just gone.


    "Were we separated?" Anne whimpered. "Oh, goodness gracious. She could be hurt! We have to find her before¡ª!"


    The river erupted.


    The girls turned, and it was a sight they have already seen many times today. A slime: climbing out of the river, following its instincts to consume. It was slow and hulking. The sheer weight of itself held it down, but with its size it simply rolled over the river cliff. Just because they had left the domain of the river, it did not mean the Giant Slime would let them go.


    "...Would the usual method work?" Aire asked.


    "Unfortunately, I do not believe I''ve ever dueled a slime so big before."


    The Giant Slime rolled closer. Every building in its path began to dissolve, stripping them of their weakest parts and leaving them bare and hissing. Now that it was out of the water, they had a real gauge of its actual size, and they realized it would take more than their tiny weapons to rid themselves of the humongous blob.


    "We run?"


    "Yes, Aire. We should run."


    Aire scooped Anne off her feet, leapt down to the alleys, and bolted. The Giant Slime was faster than it had any right to be. Although it ate away at the buildings, it wasn''t instantaneous, so it stretched and squeezed through the gaps to keep up with the little humans.


    "Can you slow it down, Anne?!"


    "I-I''ll try! [Gale Cutter]!"


    The assault cut through the fluids, and they dispersed, splattered on the walls, but it was instantly replaced by more. Anne didn''t give up, shooting as many Gale Cutters as her mana pool would allow. When even that didn''t work?


    "[Wind Wall]!"


    The spell plugged the alley. It held the Giant Slime off for about two seconds before it just overwhelmed the wind with its weight. But two seconds was better than what a [Gale Cutter] could accomplish. Anne kept at it, delaying the monster wherever she could.


    For the next few minutes, Aire skidded through the winding paths of the Second Wall fortress. They went up and down stairs, took sharp turns, and dove through the broken walls of what were once barracks, storage houses, and bathhouses. The Giant Slime was always close behind.


    "Oooh...! Where is she, where is she?!" Aire leapt over a hole in the road. "Please don''t be dead! We hadn''t even properly exchanged names yet!"


    "Focus, Aire! I think the Giant Slime is getting faster!"


    "What manner of devil would allow such tomfoolery?! What next, they teleport?!"


    "D-Don''t jinx it!"


    They dove into another alley, and the Giant Slime rolled right past. It couldn''t stop itself in time and crashed into one of the barracks. The entire building collapsed onto the giant in a thunderous cascade of brick and cracks, burying the monsters for however long it mattered.


    The gurgling of the giant slime hadn''t stopped. It''s chewing through the rubble, and it was angry.


    But they used the reprieve to catch their bearings, to find the White Mage, or to remember where they were. And it was in those few seconds that they finally noticed a sound that had been ringing all this time.


    "...A church bell?" Anne muttered.


    It rang throughout the air, throughout the fortress of the Second Wall, so faintly and distantly that they would''ve thought it was a mirage from all the stress and running had they not felt it to their bones. The Second Wall was abandoned. There should be no one to ring the bells. No one alive to host a communion with the Goddess.


    Except maybe for a certain someone.


    <hr>


    "Never thought I would ring one of these again..."


    Before Rosarium industrialized potion-making in a bid to curb their overreliance on the Clerics and Priests of the Holy Garden Kingdom, each fortress of each great Wall sponsored a church to heal the flesh and spirit. Soldiers, hardened and tested by the cruelty of the Evil Lake, would only come here if they needed the miracles of the Goddess to grow back an arm or a leg¡ªor to pray for safe tidings to the family back home.


    Willow remembered in this life''s childhood where she used to sit atop the church''s bell tower, watching the other orphans play in a courtyard just like this one. She never could connect with them, being an adult in a child''s body. May as well quickly learn the language, stay out of everybody''s way, and just read this world''s version of fantasy novels to pass the time. Priorities.


    Sometimes she wondered if she freaked everyone out with that kind of behavior. At least she grew up peacefully. The world just left her be, and that was the best she could ask for¡ªunlike now.


    "...Unbelievable." She sniffled. Blood still dripped down from her nose. From her head, too. "Are things so bad now that I actually miss those times?"


    Soon enough, they arrived: Aire and Anne, the girls she was supposed to protect.


    "Miss White Mage~!" Aire cried. "You''re alive!"


    "Yeah. And I trusted you." Willow scowled and pointed at herself. "Only for a wall to come and kiss me in the face!"


    Willow had been tempted to just abandon the plan while waiting for them. To jump down there, take her second potion, and personally solve all of their problems. She should''ve been right there with them, making absolutely sure they''ll be safe...


    But they proved themselves, hadn''t they? Capable enough to lure the Giant Slime right where she wanted it.


    She hopped down, landing beside some barrels she had set up in front of the church entrance, and rested a hand on one of them. Each barrel was about as tall as she was, built to quench the thirst of many men for many days. They had been found in the basement along with all the others.


    "Oh, Master Gerald... Three barrels of Salamander Wine this time? Layla is going to be so mad when she finds out about this."


    Secretary Layla would occasionally ask her to track down some "suspiciously missing inventory" while out on a job in the area. They were surprisingly easy to find. Most had a unique signature picked up under a mana pulse. Others... She just had to follow the scent.


    Willow didn''t need magic enhancements for this next part. Her eighteen points of strength was more than enough as she pushed the barrels onto their sides and kicked them, where they rolled down the courtyard, easily sidestepped by the Magic Fencer, and into the oblivious maw of the Giant Slime. The barrels disintegrated within the monster''s bowels, but the Salamander Wine?


    The Giant Slime lurched.


    The Rusties reached the church entrance. Anne was let back down to her feet, and Aire drew her sword, watching in puzzlement as the monster had suddenly stopped. It was writhing, churning within itself. The surface of the liquid broke and splashed, unable to pull itself together. It tried to reach them but rolled the other way by some unseen force.


    "What was in those barrels?" Anne asked. "Some...alchemic concoction? D-Did you discern the slime''s weakness? Had you synthesized a solution in the short time we were separated?!"


    ...When they get back, the first thing Willow was going to teach this maid was to manage her expectations.


    "That would be the intelligent solution," Willow said slowly. "But this? This is the Sailor''s solution."


    It was the most Sailor thing they could do, and that was to use copious amounts of alcohol to solve all their problems.


    Out in the Evil Lake against the horrors spawned from the depths, there were two things a Sailor could rely on: their spear on one hand and a bottle of booze on the other. Giant Slimes were chief among the most common killers out there, floating under the water''s surface and chewing through every ship unfortunate enough to wander over its maw. They would latch on, refusing to let go. But the Sailors would dump their alcohol overboard to feed to the Giant Slimes. It confused them, weakened them, unable to tell which was itself and which was not. They made the slimes drunk, leaving them perfectly vulnerable to their attacks.


    Normally, three barrels shouldn''t have been enough, but there''s no body of water to dilute and clean itself of the effect, now was there?


    "Should''ve stayed in the damn river, pal. Well..." Feeling woozy, Willow leaned on the church''s doorway. "The floor''s yours. Go wild."


    Anne and Aire looked at her, eyes wide. The White Mage didn''t realize it then, but that was the first time she had explicitly trusted them to do as they pleased. They looked at each other, nodded, and marched forth, glowing like the sun.


    Anne puffed her cheeks. "I''ll give it my all!"


    "Indeed!" With a swish of her blade, Aire started running. "With pleasure!"


    As Aire charged in, the wind picked up. Anne braced her staff on the ground and let it all loose with a soft, breathy kind of battle cry. It was one of the most harmless things Willow had ever heard. But the [Gale Cutter] she had cast was certainly not.


    The Slime Giant mindlessly struck out with its tendrils, but Anne''s Gale Cutters sliced right through them. Each wind blade wailed like a banshee, mercilessly shredding into the gelatinous body. Again and again and again, seemingly pushing the monster back, its fluids splattered all throughout the courtyard to be soaked in by the grass and earth.


    This time none regenerated.


    The volley stopped in time for Aire to follow up. She launched a rapid series of slashes with her rapier. Each attack that should have corroded her blade was protected by a resplendent orange aura, brilliant as the dawn. Convulsing, the Giant Slime used its size to envelop her in a deadly hug, but its speed and force just weren''t there anymore. The Magic Fencer dashed aside and left a thick gash on its body. Twice! Then Thrice!


    One more time the Giant tried to catch her. Instead of committing, Aire leapt back because the Wind Mage was ready for another volley of [Gale Cutters].


    They were in their element. Each switch was timed to leave no gaps. Every bit of ground they had lost to the Giant Slime, they took back with each of Anne''s volleys, while Aire''s speed and finesse rendered it unable to retaliate. Like this, they whittled it down bit by bit.


    Again, Aire leapt back. The Giant Slime had been reduced to almost half its size, and the field had turned muddy and sticky from all the chunks they had sliced off. They could reduce it to an ordinary slime with time.


    But somewhere along the line, something had changed.


    The Demontide that swirled inside the monster stabilized even amid the assault. It began to take on a shape, a pitch-black ring like a draconian eye. Something came out. Bubbles formed inside the Giant Slime as it ate whatever the Demontide was feeding it.


    It began regenerating.


    "We shan''t waste any more time, it seems." Aire licked her lips, calm and firm. "This is more than enough... To settle it all in one final bout..."


    She took on a stance. Knees bent. Feet spread. Sword raised, parallel to the ground. The air began to heat up, her figure surrounded by a flickering haze. Then, the orange aura around her blade turned red.


    Willow blinked. That flow again...


    The Giant Slime sensed it, too. Its internals spun like it was winding up, and the air snapped as a thick tendril lashed out!


    Anne had been ready for it. "[Wind Wall]!"


    The tendril smashed against the wind so hard that the whole thing was torn into a thousand little pieces. Some had landed on the church wall beside Willow, but the magic that gave their corrosive properties was already gone; they slid down about as harmless as raindrops.


    Aire had not even flinched. The aura intensified. Smoke began to rise as the tips of the grass blades around her spontaneously combusted. And if one could see past the light...her braid trailed behind her head, the tail of a flame.


    "Burn bright! [Galloping Gawain]!"


    She leapt like cannon fire.


    The "eye" of the Giant Slime shrunk into pinpricks. It bent back, trying to run away, but it was too little, too late. The instant the blade touched the watery surface, everything evaporated. Everything.


    Fire blasted out of the sword tip and filled the monster inside out. Vapor and fire ballooned it to its original size. And in a last gasp¡ªit exploded.


    Willow''s hair and clothes blasted back. She felt her eyes sting as she raised her cloak overhead, but Anne got them covered, summoning yet another [Wind Wall] to ward off the worst of the heat. They watched as a tower of fire enveloped the Giant Slime, the Magic Fencer, and everything.


    A thought struck the White Mage, or, rather, she remembered. Wine didn''t have enough alcohol concentration to ignite, especially while mixed with another liquid. But like many things in this big, wild world, Salamander Wine was an exception. Alcoholic paramours had bragged how it made them dream of fire-breathing dragons, and how, in the absence of magic users, the desperate used the inherent ingredients of the wine to burn down entire monster nests.


    And here, it was still burning.


    "...Anne?"


    "J-Just wait a few seconds!"


    To Willow''s relief, they did not wait long. The crackling of fire was silenced by the swishing of a sword. All the flames winked. The air was still hot but was at least livable again. The only evidence of the annihilation was the charred remains of the impact zone, and at its center, slowly sheathing her sword, was the noble lady herself.


    Aire spun around with a sign of victory, a grin, and a wink. "Now how about it, friend? Was I dashing or was I dashing?"


    Oh, what a dork...


    Willow rolled her eyes. "Very dashing, Aire. You really did it. Both of you."


    "We...did it?" Anne smiled wide and brightly, and her staff dropped to the ground, canceling the last of the [Wind Wall] Skill, as she began hopping in place with giddiness. "Oh! We did it! The Divine Glass has sent me notification! My stats went up!"


    "Absolutely splendid, Little Anne! Give me a hooray~!"


    "O-Oh, um, hooray~!"


    As the two clasped hands and raised them high to the sky, Willow noticed Aire''s equipment was a wreck. The heat had warped the metal pieces, which chafed the burnt cloth underneath, and the cloth itself was all ripped and unusable, exposing skin that had somehow remained immaculate from the fire. The White Mage winced thinking of how much it would cost to replace, well, everything. An accident was just waiting to happen.


    "Very good, very good!" Aire nodded proudly, hardly bothered by her state of dress. "You as well, Miss White Mage!"


    "Hm? What are you¡ª?" Willow found herself grabbed by the arms, held on tight with no way to escape. "Hey! Personal space!"


    "Now, now. From henceforth, we are now companions. So say it with us! Hip hip... hooray¡ª!"


    Something snapped. It was the thread holding her breastplate and the last shreds of clothing that maintained her dignity. And they...had fallen off. The breastplate hit the ground with a thud.


    Aire''s face stilled. "Ah."


    The maid was covering her face in horror.


    And Willow... Willow looked down in a deadpan stare. Up. Down. And up again. With a slow, tired sigh, she reached over her shoulders and untied the threads of her own cloak, then she threw it around the noblewoman.


    "O-Oh..." Blushing, Aire allowed the White Mage to just secure the cloak. Thankfully, it was just big enough to cover everything that would''ve drawn eyes. ''''Thank you..."


    If Willow had ever wondered about the laws of fanservice of this world, then she had found her answer.


    ...This better not be a regular occurrence.


    <hr>


    The job was not quite done yet. They still had the leftover Demontide to purify.


    It was the perfect excuse to walk away from the topic of Aire''s wardrobe malfunction, so without further ado, they all invoked the Divine Glass and had spent the better part of the ritual in awkward silence, holding the crystalized forms of the [Karma] window as they partook in the holy work of the Goddess.


    The riding birds had found them at some point. Quartz and Ruby must''ve figured the danger was all gone, and, well, attracted by the light, they couldn''t help but plop themselves beside their respective owners and push their beaks against the [Karma] crystals, only to chirp with alarm when they just phased through.


    Giggles broke out. The girls found them adorable.


    Although...


    [Karma]


    1394


    [Karma]


    1113


    [Karma]


    892


    The numbers were still displayed above them.


    Willow really wished the System would let her hide hers during the [Purification Ritual]. The mystified gazes she was getting from Aire and Anne for having the highest karma of them all were a bit uncomfortable. Thankfully, whatever questions they had were all left unsaid in lieu of what came next.


    [Purification Ritual] Complete!


    Gained 200 Karma.


    [Karma]


    1394 + 200


    [Karma]


    1113 + 200


    [Karma]


    892 + 200


    Now initializing [Karmic Resonance].


    Allocating the Divine Essence to the appropriate users.


    Please stand by.


    As if blessing the church grounds, the air became full of Kyaeris''s divine majesty. The colors of the world seemingly blended together as they began to converge into their [Karma] crystals.


    Anne''s eyes shimmered as she stared at her own. To her, it was a faraway city, the hearth of home. Ruby, ever the needy bird, hugged close to her arm, gazing into the light alongside her. "It''s... so warm."


    "Indeed. The boundless benevolence of the Goddess never ceases to amaze," Aire spoke softly, clutching Willow''s cloak. Hers held a spark of hope, the rays of a new day. "Was this... Was this what mother and father felt...?"


    The faces they made as they had their first [Karmic Resonance] were nothing short of religious.


    Divine Essence was the ultimate reward for loyalty and devotion to Kyaeris.


    The motes of light appearing from the purification of the Demontide was divinity itself. When touched, it was like a warm hug from a maternal figure, a fireplace in the cold night.


    Legends were made from the Divine Essence. It could be spent on any skill or any stat sans luck, elevating the foundation of one''s being or attaining the enlightenment of the gods. Any bottleneck one faced could be solved with a [Karmic Resonance].


    Or so Willow had heard.


    Error: Skills are set to read-only. Repository synchronization failed.


    Error: Status is set to read-only. System stat modification inapplicable.


    Error: Luck factor unreadable. User is unanchored from causality.


    [Karmic Resonance] has been canceled. Divine Essence may still be allocated or donated at a later date.


    No glory for her, she supposed. Couldn''t even be damned to at least fix her garbage mana stat.


    "Eh?" Anne looked at her. "Miss White Mage, why did yours suddenly dim?"


    "Just spent everything where I already wanted them," Willow lied. "Don''t worry about it."


    Maybe it was just her words or her attitude, but the maid cast her a concerned look. "Is...that really true?"


    Willow met her gaze. Quite sharp, this one, but she had been an adult long enough to learn how to keep a straight face. "It''s not my first Monster Raid, Miss Anne. Sorry if I''m not as enamored as I should be. But I will congratulate you for a job well done, so..." She bowed slightly. "Congratulations."


    "O-Oh, um... Thank you?"


    Eventually, the [Karmic Resonance] was complete. It was subtle, but there was now a different air about the two. They stood stronger, taller, prouder... Like they took one more step toward the heavens.


    Willow felt a little awkward, being left out in the ascension party.


    Frankly, the fact that a twenty-man raid was cleared by only three adventurers and a prayer through what''s basically a suicidal offensive was absurd. And absurd feats deserved absurd rewards.


    It was all theirs for the taking. Anne and Aire should have grown leaps and bounds, maybe even reaching the tail end of what a Silver-ranked adventurer was capable of, and, give or take a month or two, rank up. Willow could not spend her own Divine Essence, but...at least she''ll try to be happy for them.


    It was all she could do at this point.


    "Well." Willow stretched with a groan. "May as well heal up and get ready to move. We''ve stayed here long enough. Anne? Here."


    Anne turned to find Willow dangling something under her grip. It was a potion belt. "Huh?" When she patted around, she found that her potion belt had been gone this whole time. She took it from Willow''s hands, feeling over the leather. "Since when...?"


    "I...was trying to grab onto something when we got separated." Willow wiped under her nose. The blood had crusted and easily flaked off. "I already used some. Sorry."


    "No, no. It''s okay. You are okay." Anne held up a half-drunk health potion. She smiled. "Potions are meant to be used after all."


    "...I think I know a certain class of people who would disagree."


    "Was that a joke? There is no way such people would exist. Aire? Come here and drink the rest."


    "Understood. Down it goes~!"


    Willow blanked out as Aire drank that same half-drunken potion without hesitation. She had not bothered to wipe the rim where the White Mage had drank. The indirect kiss? That much was obvious. If that was all, she would have just said nothing and pretended it had never happened, but no. Because that...


    "That...was a high-grade potion."


    "Hm?" Aire stopped drinking to look at her. There was still some at the bottom. "Oh, this?" She swirled the glass, treating it like an everyday beverage. "Due to some...circumstances, we rarely possess any coins lower than platinum to buy the lower-tier potions."


    "I''m sorry¡ªplatinum?"


    "Fear not! Our coffers are robust enough to bear these strange economic times. It may seem like a waste to you, but we must endeavor to be in good health at all bright hours. Besides, it''s not like we have a healer with us to nurse the littlest of our injuries." And then the noblewoman drank the rest of the potion, ending it off with a satisfied sigh. "Oh, but I must say... It has that pleasant fizz on the tongue..."


    Willow stared. Really, really hard.


    Aire blinked innocently. She seemed clueless at first, but as Willow burned a hole through her forehead, there was a second blink, this time within an inkling of critical thinking. It slowly began to dawn on her. She, and the maid, turned beet red.


    "Despite always calling me by my class," Willow said, her eyes accusing, "you completely forgot I was a White Mage, didn''t you."


    "...How about we start returning to Risadel proper?" Aire said. "Agreed?"


    Anne nodded rapidly. "Agreed!"


    The shameless silver spoons turned their backs and got their bird mounts ready. They even began huddling together in hushed whispers, constantly glancing over their shoulders at Willow with nervous smiles. They didn''t bother to hide the fact. Did they realize how ridiculous they looked?


    "Okay, Ruby. Just like before, please carry Miss White Mage on your back. It should be no problem this time, yes?"


    But there was a problem. A big problem.


    Ruby had one look at Willow, at her blood-drenched staff and the psychotic blood splatters on her clothes¡ªand took a long step back. The Cherub shook her head. No. Many times. Absolutely not. Willow''s mayhem with the kobolds had evaporated every bit of goodwill she had.


    "Ruby, please..."


    "Oh, in that case, maybe Quartz here would¡ªwhoa!" Aire was just about to mount Quartz when she suddenly had to arrest the reins. The bird had begun writhing around, chirping in protest. "Easy there, boy! Easy! It''ll be okay! I promise!"


    "Your brother doesn''t like it either. Come on, Ruby," Anne pleaded to her feathered friend. Slowly, she tugged so that they and the White Mage were closer together. "You are the big sister here. I''m sure with enough time you''ll look past appearances and see in her a heart of¡ªRuby? Ruby, that''s the wrong way. Ruby?!"


    Quartz accidentally smacked Ruby, and that was the start of utter mayhem.


    The Cherubs fed into each other''s anxieties, screaming and running, forcing their owners to dig their heels in and prevent them from running off to the nearest haven they could find. Kicking up mud. Shedding their feathers. Chirping so loud that their ears rang. For all their intelligence, they were still animals.


    All the while, Willow just stood there, lips in a straight line, wondering how much more bullshit she could take today.


    Then mud slapped her face.


    "...I''ll just walk."

 008

    <div>


    They tried. They really did. They insisted they could make it work, but even after a lot of placating, praising, and pushing, the Cherubs were adamantly against Willow riding any one of them. May as well settle the issue and just move on.


    Willow had to go on foot while Aire and Anne stayed on their mounts. They never left her behind. Even as they lost daylight. Even as the Cherubs yearned to escape the shadows creeping up on their feet. A tight grip and a stern word reigned the birds in, refusing to afford the White Mage anything less.


    At some point, the Rusties had hopped off and joined the White Mage on the ground. Perhaps in solidarity with the sole party member without a ride. Sweet. Unnecessary, but sweet.


    Or, at least, that was what she thought.


    "¡ªagainst the poisoned rain and earth, the One and True Saintess prayed to Kyaeris. Judgement, holy light, bounded its wings and gouged its eyes, a divine punishment for daring to besmirch the skies of the Goddess¡ª!"


    Somehow, they managed it. Convinced them? Yeah, right. They cheated. When one of the birds was calm enough to sit still, Anne held their attention while Aire suddenly hoisted Willow over her shoulder and then dumped her onto the mount''s back, like she was being kidnapped.


    "¡ªThe Obsidian Witch foretold the fortune of the wicked beast. Be it a hex or a curse, a stake was spiked upon its throat, never to cast its profane breath again¡ª"


    Quartz was the unlucky bird. Half-dried kobold blood soaked his feathers, and Willow had smeared it all over him as she awkwardly clutched his sides with her knees and elbows. The poor Cherub looked as though the lake had turned black or the sky had turned red, and before Willow could shift to a more comfortable position, Aire and Anne were back in their spots, and they were on the move.


    "¡ªeye of the beast shuddered, blinded by the righteous fury of her spear. She dashed. She galloped! With the mighty roar of a dragon, the Azure Maiden pierced the foul demonic spawn¡ª!"


    Willow had spent the rest of the journey stuck like this, carried like luggage while Aire recited a Bard''s tale she had heard before coming to Risadel.


    "¡ªThus, the Azure Dragons attained complete victory, blessed the skies with their hearts whole and pure!"


    Walking would''ve been less mortifying.


    "What do you think?" Aire grinned. "Does it not send the heart aflutter? We live in a time when our contemporaries are legends in the making. And we walk right along their footsteps, accomplishing the impossible!"


    Too cheesy. Too many adjectives. Not her style. Willow preferred the more down-to-earth works of the late Royal Scrivener Thomas. But was she going to say that? She''d rather not entertain the fluttery adventurer any more than she already had.


    "Hmm, but you do seem the type to prefer the likes of Thomas the Monotone..."


    ...Were her tastes that obvious?


    "Why, it takes me back," Aire whispered wistfully, "when all I had was a paper sword and a heart of fancy. The maids of my house and I would always pretend, triumphing over giant monsters, like they did in the Accounts of the Great Sage..."


    Willow raised her head, squinting. "You had to deal with this when she was a kid?"


    "Oh, she was a handful!" Anne had a hand over her mouth, stifling a giggle. "But those were still the brightest years of our lives. You won''t find a more earnest girl."


    "Nay." Aire raised a fist and puffed her chest, but considering her state of dress, it did...interesting things under the white cloak. "There shall be even brighter times ahead. With our party shall be like no other, and every bard would extol our valorous deeds across Rosarium!"


    Willow had to clutch Quartz''s feathers when the bird suddenly jerked, hopping over a puddle. "Please," she strained, "I think I would die of embarrassment."


    "You mean burst into flowers, like Helen the Humble?"


    "Can you all stop comparing me to people who died tragic deaths?"


    Aire pouted. "Why so blas¨¦, friend? Does glory not invoke your sense of romance?"


    "Glory?" Willow kept herself from hissing as she caught her own staff from falling off. "Your clothes didn''t survive. Not even the least perverted Bard in the continent would leave that out. Keep this up, and you could be remembered as one of those Barbarians who shamelessly rush into battle half-naked. Ever thought about that?"


    "Well, this WAS the fourth armor set she had burned..." Anne murmured. "Oh, dear... Do people already think...?"


    Willow felt a little bad putting up a wall and shaming her like this, but if she must adventure with these two goofballs for their entire tenure in Risadel, the sooner they realize the harsh realities of fame and fortune, the better. Otherwise, Miss Fanservice here was going to have a hard time.


    "Hm?" The noblewoman tilted her head. "Is that truly so bad?"


    ...Huh?


    "In fact, it would be my honor to be compared to the likes of our brave brothers and sisters of the Farnear Divide! Are you worried I would be embarrassed? Humiliated? You underestimate me; there is no shame in showing a little bit of skin, especially in tribute to such gallant allies of justice."


    "A ''little'' bit?" Willow felt her brows disappear behind her bangs, because if walking around in burnt rags that barely covered everything important was only a little, she was almost afraid to ask what would be indecent. "Anne? I was under the impression that Barbarians were stigmatized. Particularly for a certain lack of fashion. As a concept."


    "Lady Aire does not discriminate. No matter who you are or where you are from, a hero is still a hero. An attitude I believe a certain little birdie ought to adopt, isn''t that right, Ruby?" The maid made her displeasure known by tussling the feathers along her Cherub''s neck. Ruby let out a pitiful whine but leaned into the touch, treating it more like a massage than a punishment.


    Her disciplinary methods definitely needed work, Willow thought.


    "Indeed," Aire nodded, a noble smile gracing her lips. "We were raised to be proud and accepting ladies of Rosarium society. To scorn those who fought alongside us would bring shame upon my family name."


    "...What even is your family name?" Because whoever raised her, Willow wanted to slap them for forgetting to teach this lady common sense.


    "Ah," Aire winked, "that would be telling."


    They arrived at the mouth of the First Wall, the river rolling down like an impossibly long tongue. The Rosarium soldiers stationed there saw them. A few voices sounded from up top, with an awful lot more energy than they should have, being on their night shift. Then: a loud clack.


    Chains rattled as the gate began to lift. It should''ve just opened halfway, but it went all the way to the top, until the First Wall was gaping and showing its teeth. On the other side, a man greeted them. A man Willow recognized.


    The Lake Watcher had started his night shift, his uniform fresh and stiff against the cool air, and his golden rose emblem glinting on his breast.


    The girls steered their birds into the tall wharf under the gate. They slowed down, the moisture of the river wafting up to their feet. It was there for only a second, but Willow had felt the stillness of the mana in the air. If she had not known any better, she would have thought it was a threat, but sometimes the wharf got slippery, and entire caravans could fall into the water. He was actually ready to catch them in case that happened.


    The Lake Watcher stepped aside, guiding them through with a wave of his spear. His gaze slid over Anne and Aire, offering a nod of respect to each, before locking onto Willow. He straightened his back and gave his usual salute. "Welcome back, ma''am."


    Willow ignored the bewildered looks she was getting from the two as, from her undignified place, she waved hello. "Lake Watcher. At ease, and thanks for the welcome, I guess. But a bit excessive to open it all the way, don''t you think?"


    "The men needed the excuse to show off." The soldier marched in lockstep with the birds, taking the side along the river to get a proper look at her. "You appear to be dying."


    "Spiritually? Yes," she said. "I''ve made my peace with it."


    The Lake Watcher hummed. "You appear much thinner under the cloak than I thought. Skipping meals again?"


    "I eat plenty, thanks."


    "As a man married to a mother hen, I can assure you those words never fooled anyone." The Lake Watcher then took note of the state of the party, raising a brow at Aire, who wore Willow''s bloodied cloak, and frowning at Anne, who wilted under his scrutiny. "I see you dealt with more than just the local river slimes. Demontide?"


    "Demontide. Monster Spawner at the Second Wall. We already cleared it out."


    "...Truly?"


    "Indeed," Aire boldly declared. "It was long and hard-fought, but the blight has been vanquished." She raised a tattered glove, proving the struggle they all had faced. "I assure you none remains."


    The Lake Watcher gave the Magic Fencer a long, hard look, but seeing the White Mage nod, he unclenched his jaw and softened up. "...Very well. As per procedure, we will send a team to verify your testimony and notify the guild. Please proceed."


    Aire smiled. "Rosarium blooms upon thee!"


    "Y-Yes." Anne nodded, but it came off as a bow. "Thank you for your hard work."


    It was as if their words snagged him by the soul. He was not quite facing them, but Willow saw his vacant expression clearly enough. His lips parted, his eyes narrowed slightly. A blink, and it was gone. "It is merely my duty," he said. "Take care now."


    The Lake Watcher made one last salute before his departure, marching to the top of the First Wall to begin his vigil of the Evil Lake. Then, behind the party, the gate rolled down, rattling the chains and mechanisms that made it possible, until it hit the bottom with a resounding thud under the river.


    "Amazing..." Anne had watched it all happen, staring so pensively that Ruby took over to watch where they were going. "I never knew you were friendly with the Rosarium soldiers, Miss White Mage."


    "We chat. Don''t misunderstand."


    The Magic Fencer hummed. "Are all the soldiers as distinguished as that gentleman? Rosarium does not simply just send their talented soldiers so far away from the capital," she said. "Volunteers, perhaps...?"


    "...You can say that, sure."


    They were inside Risadel proper and then into Bard Street. Willow took the chance to dismount. The moment her boots met the ground, though, Quartz let out a cry of relief and stretched his wings, shedding his metaphorical shackles. He almost tried to run, too, had Aire not reined him in.


    "Whoa, Quartz! Mind your manners," Aire chastised. "The night is young! It is still too soon to exchange farewells! No, do not go over there¡ª! Quartz!"


    And they ran through the dark, but never too far, circling around the streetlight.


    "You, too, Ruby." Anne cupped the bird by the beak before she could act up, forcing her into eye contact. But the maid''s pouting was not the reproachful look she thought it was. "I know what you are thinking, but another few minutes won''t hurt."


    Willow rolled her eyes. Maybe it was the way of the nobles to faff around like guests trying too hard to impress at the exit door, but she was just so done right now. "It''s fine. Go get changed already. You can return my cloak at the guild tomorrow."


    "Eh?" Anne blinked. "But..."


    She was about to argue, but that moment of distraction was all that Ruby needed. The Cherub took a wide berth from the White Mage. As in, ten steps away wide.


    Anne gasped. "Ruby!"


    It was so cartoonishly rude that Willow could not help but let slip a derisive laugh. And that made the big coward take another step back. Ruby whined, cried, and shook her head, marching in place. She wanted to go.


    "Give it a rest," Willow said. "Can''t expect people to be best friends in only a day."


    Aire and her mount circled by. "But we did, did we not¡ª? Quartz, that is the river!"


    Willow strategically chose to ignore that. "Respect their feelings. There''s always next time."


    "I..." The maid bit her lip. "I suppose it is getting late." She clearly did not want to just up and leave, but at their destination and at this hour, there was no point in convincing the birds anymore. She smiled apologetically. "Good night, Miss White Mage. May the Moons watch¡ªRuby? S-Slow down!"


    The bird mounts did not care. The instant they sensed the permission to leave, they took it. They ran down Bard Street, carrying their owners away and kicking up dust in their wake. There were a few shouts and expletives, one of the local bards shaking a fist at them, as they narrowly avoided some night-goers on the way.


    Willow was left alone. Finally alone.


    "...I do not like those birds," she groused.


    She huffed, brushing off a few feathers still stuck to her tunic, but did not leave right away. Instead, she glanced back at the First Wall.


    The soldiers stationed here had a precarious relationship with the mainland. Rebellious elements. Demoted officers. Victims of corruption. Far away from home, so close to the shores of the Evil Lake, with limited support and substandard defenses, but too desperate or too stubborn to leave...


    They were all sent here to die.


    Anne and Aire might not appreciate the dishonesty, but if they hadn''t figured it out yet, it was probably for the best. Maybe when they were ready, when the fates allowed it.


    After all, it only made sense. That was how it usually went down. Wayward nobles: bearing their ideals, facing the sins of their kingdom as a part of their story.


    Willow could only hope she had enough in her to keep them alive before then.


    <hr>


    Back in the orphanage, the nuns and priests of the Holy Garden Kingdom had told Willow to always remember to give thanks to the Goddess before bed.


    So thanks for the kraken stew, a hearty meal to nourish her battered soul. Thanks for the roof over her head, these rare moments of peace and quiet and tranquility. Thanks for the warm baths, the ingenuity of magic, which washed all the stress and grime, sanitized her clothes, reaching where neither soap nor brush could reach.


    And thanks. For giving her this second chance. For surviving yet another day.


    Then she buried her face into the pillow and groaned, letting the spirit leave her mouth.


    Willow turned herself over and stared up at the ceiling.


    Most adventurers had two choices for lodging in Risadel. One was an inn, which you could find plenty of along Bard Street. Another was the Dragon Tale guild itself, for a price. Room and board were free for guild employees, who either had nowhere else to stay or were just too dedicated to their job¡ªof which there was a concerningly high number of the latter. As a member of the Support Corps, she was technically considered an employee.


    The room had been rebuilt when Roxidel was renamed Risadel. Some of the old wooden planks mingled with the new ones, each with varying flakes of varnish and paint. Even the bed was a Frankenstein monstrosity, glued back together with natural resin and a few casts of [Synthesis] to seal the deal, housing a patchwork mattress covered by a patchwork blanket. It was spartan, bereft of personal effects, with only a desk to write on and a closet to store her things.


    It wasn''t much, but it was home.


    Knock, knock, knock!


    Willow sighed.


    Heaving herself off the bed, the White Mage paused by the door, wondering who could be knocking at this hour. Unless it was urgent business, Layla usually waited until morning. Master Gerald would''ve busted the door down. Most people were nowhere near friendly enough to know where she stayed.


    Then, she shrugged and grabbed her staff by the corner¡ªthe sharp end pointed up¡ªbefore slowly opening it just wide enough to see who was on the other side.


    "...Magni?"


    "Good evening, White Mage!" The blue wolf girl sparkled, oddly too happy to see her with how her tail was swishing like a pendulum. She cleared her throat, straightened her cuffs, all proper and casual-like, and said, "I happened to pass by, and I must say, your pleasant aroma is like no other¡ª"


    "Horrible phrasing."


    "¡ªand so I thought, like a good neighbor, perhaps we could share a drink downstairs. Talk about our day. Relax under the firelight."


    "Right. And we couldn''t have done this tomorrow? Why are you here, really?"


    "You wound me!" Magni clutched her heart. "After all we''ve done together! I am simply a concerned friend trying to check up on her favorite White Mage. Is that so wrong? Why, you could ask anyone, and they''d call me the most magnanimous wolf in all of Rosarium! You would not find a girl more loyal, more honest, more¡ª!"


    Willow shut the door.


    Willow waited.


    Knock, knock, knock.


    Willow opened the door again.


    Magni cradled her tail with the straightest look on her face. "I have nowhere to stay," she said, "and I was hoping we could...share the room."


    "...Where did you stay before?"


    "In my wagon. It''s still in the workshop getting repaired. The damage was..." Magni scratched under her ear. "It was worse than we thought. Had to walk in and pay a little extra, and, uh, I may have forgotten the rest of my money inside the wagon before they closed up shop and locked everything away, so... Help a girl out?"


    Willow went quiet. She spent half that time squinting at Magni in disbelief and the other half just thinking about it. Her eyes rolled up. Rolled down. At Magni. Back down. At Magni again, who at some point broke out the puppy eyes. She pinched the bridge of her nose and exhaled.


    In for a penny, in for a pound, or so they say...


    Resting her staff back in its corner, she widened the door.The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    "Eheheh~!" Magni strutted right on through. "Still got it!"


    "Sleep in the closet. There are a few spare blankets you can use. I also have a few of my things in there." Willow locked the door and began turning around. "So whatever you do, do not¡ªwhat are you doing?"


    Beside the opened closet, where her boots and mantle were already thrown in, Magni stopped halfway from disrobing her shorts. She blinked. "Getting ready to sleep. Obviously."


    "You sleep with your clothes off?"


    "And you sleep with your clothes on?" Magni gave her a once-over. "With those clothes on? Don''t you get all itchy?"


    "Since when were we close enough to be this...comfortable?"


    "Sounds like someone never got chummy with a Barbarian before."


    "Hopefully never. I have my hands full with enough trouble as it is."


    "Oh, relaaax!" the wolf girl dismissed, before going all the way and revealing that behind those shorts...


    ...was another, smaller pair of shorts.


    Oh.


    Magni twirled her shorts by the waistband along her finger, a goofy grin on her lips. "We''re both girls here. It''s not like you see me that way¡ªack!"


    The shorts slipped off and smacked her in the face. Somehow, it landed so perfectly that she ended up wearing it over her head. Wolf ears poked through the leg holes as she stumbled into the closet, flailing around like some kind of pervert. "Nnnrk! Nyeh! Who turned off the lights?!"


    She tried to brace onto something only to slip and entangle herself in a mess of blankets. It only made it worse.


    Willow watched on. Whatever tension she had felt faded to dust. Had she honestly thought something inappropriate was going to happen? Stupid. Of course not.


    Something like that was only for the protagonist.


    "You know what? You made your point." Willow shoved the rest of the wolf girl in there and then closed the closet. "Get as comfortable as you want."


    She nestled back into her bed, drawing the covers over herself. End of day, end of chapter, feeling herself drift to sleep, healing up all her HP, MP, and SP, without a single damn left in the world.


    "Good night," she said, before turning off the mana lights, a flicker of [Telekinesis] on the switch.


    ...


    In the dark, there was a low, steady creak.


    "Hey, um," Magni spoke through the crack in the closet, "I wasn''t exactly lying when I said I wanted to chat. Can we... Can we still do that?"


    "...Ten minutes."


    <hr>


    There were plenty of ways to get potions, even in Risadel. Some general goods stores typically had the common household ones in stock. Or, if you''re feeling brave, you could get some from the shady merchant next door, peddling weird things like potions of ''enlargement'' or ''heroism'' or whatever.


    For the hardy adventurers, those in need of stronger stuff? They would need to see an Alchemist.


    Willow and Magni stood before the Red Apothecary. It was one of the few workshops to settle in Risadel, but instead of establishing somewhere convenient like Bard Street, the owner took the business to the shady, abandoned parts of town, surrounded by the remnants of what once was Roxidel. The workshop itself was just two steps removed from a slum house.


    "I-Is this really the right place?" Magni stuck to Willow''s back, watching the alleys untouched by the early morning light with shaky eyes. "Everything here is so run down... and creepy."


    "And it is probably the best in town," Willow said. "Bear with it."


    In her past life, RPGs sometimes had that one mysterious shop in the middle of nowhere that sold precious gear. Following that logic, the Red Apothecary must be something special. All Willow had to do was follow the rumors, and she became a regular ever since.


    The signboard hanging over the door was the only proof of its establishment. The crude drawing of a red cauldron with steam lines, which faded at the end as if the artist ran out of paint, was hanging by a single, rusted chain.


    Until it broke.


    A crack, and the signboard lay in pieces on the ground.


    Magni stared. "...Are you sure?"


    "I''m sure. Let''s go."


    Bells announced their entrance. The air was thick with incense, mixing with the musk of old wood. Two boarded-up tables served as the reception counters, while six more held all manner of jars and potions on the tabletops. Whatever was on the side of the counters was blocked by a thick curtain of stitched-up blankets. Despite the shoddy appearance, the poor lighting held up the sense of mystique, and that was exactly why it was, without a doubt, an Alchemist''s workshop.


    Good thing Magni did not look up, or she would''ve freaked at the countless talismans adhered to the ceiling like a psychopath''s piece of modern art.


    She was right behind Willow, looking around in awe, until her attention was arrested by the conspicuously huge bowl in the middle. Inside were balls the size of marbles wrapped in what smelled like rice paper.


    "Huh. What''s this?" Magni raised one up to eye level, gave it a whiff. "Oh! Minty! Is this candy? This place is more modern and hospitable than thought. Well, don''t mind if I¡ª!"


    "Well, well, well... Yet another fool courting death."


    Magni yelped and went behind the nearest human shield. Willow, for her part, had expected it.


    In the far corner, in their blind spot, was a granny on a rocking chair. Willow had met her enough times to count all twelve warts and four moles on that wrinkly face. An elongated nose and a ninety-degree hunchback, gangly hands over a gangly cane¡ªshe was the walking stereotype of an ugly Witch. But a few things broke the mold: like the pair of fox ears peeking through her monstrosity of a hairdo and the hanfu draped over her figure, which was stuffed with her own tail, making her back look bigger than it actually was.


    The Witch, the owner of the workshop, grinned. "White Mage. I almost didn''t recognize you without that mantle of yours. And I see you brought a little friend. Found a test subject for the elixir of immortality, have you?"


    "Wait, what?!"


    "She''s kidding, Magni," Willow said. "Calm down."


    "B-But she''s looking at me like she''ll shove me into a pot and boil me alive!"


    "Oh, no, no, no..." The Witch stood up from the rocking chair. "I am not one to do something so wasteful, so benign. Boiling you would ruin the material. Like that tail of yours. It would make for a fine coat for this coming winter, ufufufu~!"


    "Keep my tail out of this!"


    The Witch began stalking around the workshop. Her wicked eyes were on Magni, who kept herself behind Willow and swiveled her by the shoulders the whole time.


    "Why are you running, little wolf?" The Witch suddenly switched directions, making Magni almost trip trying to go the other way. She cackled. "Where is the famed ferocity and pride of your tribe? Surely the blood of this generation is not so weak that even the ancestors had been forgotten. Let me get a good look at you."


    Magni''s tail went right between her legs. "H-Hey, hey! Hands off the goods! Or my old man''s ghost will haunt you, lady!"


    They were so up close now that the Witch was looking over Willow''s shoulder, almost stabbing the White Mage with her nose. "Quite the mouth, this one. Curious. Is this the type of company you keep, White Mage? The more I hear about the famed Nose Fixer, the more perplexing you are. But it seems even you cannot resist the simple desire for a fluffy tail."


    "What am I, a pet now?! Seriously, leave me alone!"


    Around and around they went. Magni had abandoned using Willow as a shield and used her as a pillar instead. She ducked out of sight wherever she could, all the while the Witch followed her tail, clearly enjoying the game of cat and mouse.


    Willow just stood there. Lips and brows straight. Should she raise her staff and start bopping some heads? Or be civilized and wait for reason to prevail?


    Fortunately, she did not have to choose. Reason eventually came. From deeper within the workshop, a distant voice broke through.


    "Granny Yoko! Are you scaring the customers again?!"


    Everything ground to a halt.


    "Bah!" The Witch yelled across the counters, "So what if I am, Rika?!"


    "Granny, we talked about this! We are running a business, remember!?"


    "Of course I remember! This whole thing was my idea! Now you stay back there and do your homework while I have a fun little chat with our regular."


    "Wait, the White Mage?"


    The pitter-pattering of footsteps. There was a commotion. Something fell. There was the sound of boxes getting kicked over, but that didn''t stop whoever was coming. Then, bursting from the curtains, there came out a little girl.


    Big, wide glasses covered big, wide eyes. Huge, fluffy ears sprouted from her brilliant red hair, only for her tail to show up from the curtain and prove what was the true apex of fluffy things. She was wiping her powdered gloves over an oversized apron, and she was small enough that, except for her fox ears, she disappeared behind the table counter, only to pop up from a stepping stool.


    Rika: Alchemist, little shopkeeper, and the Witch''s apprentice. When compared to the creepy vibes of the Red Apothecary and the mischief of the Witch, her cuteness was like a ray of sunshine.


    "Welcome, welcome! Back for more mana potions already? You''ve been chugging those like an addict, and... Huh. You look smaller without the cloak."


    Willow knew it was her signature, but must everyone keep mentioning it?


    The moment she laid eyes on her, Magni gasped. She looked down on her own tail, then looked at Rika''s. She saw the sheen in the fuzz, the prestige in the color. And despaired. "B-Beaten by a little shopkeeper..."


    "Hey! Not little! In this line of work, I could be a thousand years old." The little shopkeeper gave the White Mage a little side eye and a smug grin. "You never know."


    "Psh. Yeah, right. There''s no way you are that old." But then Magni leaned over to Willow and whispered nervously, "She''s not. Right?"


    "At least this little wolf has eyes." Yoko the Witch tutted. "The first time the White Mage came, she mistook my granddaughter Rika here for the owner! To my face! Ridiculous! She''s only fourteen, for Goddess''s sake!"


    Make one offhanded joke about thousand-year-old lolitas, and they hold it over you...


    In her defense, Rika was too small to be fourteen.


    "With how you are running this workshop, I may as well be," Rika retorted. "Now you stay over there while I take over. Okay, granny?" Rika had on a bright, award-winning smile. "So what can I get you, Miss White Mage?"


    "The usual, for a start. And I guess I''ll be browsing. Things... are getting hectic."


    "You''re telling me. Quite a mess, that Wild Hunt. And just when I thought business was picking up with the uptick in adventurers, too... So how are you paying this time? Old-fashioned gald? Or," she leaned over the counter, "Information?"


    "...I heard you have homework."


    "Thought you''d never ask! Come on in¡ªsorry, just the White Mage. We have sensitive stuff in here."


    "Wait," Magni pointed at the Witch, "you''re leaving me alone with her?!"


    Willow already had her back to her, crossing the counter, her hand on the curtains. "You wanted to learn more about the local economy, right? Well, here you go. Ask her anything. Yoko was there when it used to be Roxidel and had been around ever since they first rebuilt Risadel. You won''t find anyone better."


    Besides, Yoko was just playing. Magni would be fine.


    Before the Merchant could protest, Willow was gone.


    "Oh, my!" Yoko crooned, and she rested a hand over Magni''s shoulder. "A glowing review from the White Mage. I suppose this wise one shall entertain you as a favor. You are here for business, yes?" Her eyes glinted. "Then let us talk business."


    Magni whimpered.


    <hr>


    "Sorry about the mess. We''re swimming in herbs lately, and we were just getting them processed."


    One would think an apothecary would be more careful about their regents, but boxes of Thread Whistles were left out in the opening. Healing Bellflowers were washed up and laid out to dry on the tables. There were even half-filled fermentation jars along a counter. A breeze could send everything flying.


    Maybe she was reading too much into it, but Nikolas''s herb-gathering luck seemed to be making waves.


    Rika hopped over one of the boxes that had fallen over. Fortunately, they were just empty. "Granny and I had an argument about how we should use the [Synthesis] spell. She wasn''t happy about what I said."


    Willow stepped over them. "Was this about how Rosarium industrialized the potion-making process?"


    "Yup. We can cast [Synthesis] at each step, so why bother with the traditional methods? Now get this: she''s making me brew a sleeping potion with a purity of at least ninety percent. No Skills. No shortcuts. Nothing but this old alchemy set. Crazy, right?"


    It was crazy alright.


    Purity was everything. It was what separated a mediocre alchemist from a great one. You could have the best ingredients and the best tools money could buy, but if the purity was too low, it was no better than the common variants of the concoction. To maximize the purity, Skills were practically required.


    "And she''s fine with you having my help?" Willow asked.


    "It''s alchemy. Facts are facts. Buying the answer is no different from reading it off a book or figuring it out for myself. She doesn''t care how I got it, only that I got it right." Rika huffed. "So far, the best I made was eighty-eight percent."


    They went into the lab, a spacious chamber reinforced with stone walls that felt relatively empty save for the big table at the center. The table itself was brimming with mysterious energy, and carved into the surface was the titular symbol of the yin and yang. On it, a set of scrolls and flasks were prepared on each side. The ingredients were the exception, neatly arranged in a line atop a cloth. The Blue Musky flowers stuck out, wafting their relaxing aroma.


    Rika nimbly hopped on a big box. Willow stood behind her, looking over her head to see a book on the table''s edge. The Alchemist''s Handbook, Fourth Edition. It showed its age, fraying at the edges. If the cover was barely legible, then Willow could only imagine the words on the pages were worse. Yet...


    "What a rare find," she muttered. "Outdated, but still holds up to modern standards."


    "Really? That''s a relief. Wish ink wasn''t so precious, or I''d write myself a copy."


    "Borrowed it?"


    "Mhm. Really annoying, asking for help from the other workshops."


    With a pair of tongs usually meant for glassware, Rika dragged over a scroll and unfurled it.


    "Everything seemed fine up until the sixth step. See here? Should be a transparent green, but it''s blue and murky. I thought I did something wrong. Changed the heat, redid the steps, rechecked the ingredients¡ªbut nope. Nothing." She rubbed a smudge off her glasses. "At some point, I thought the wrinkly fox gave me the wrong instructions. So I pushed through with the rest of the steps anyway. N-Nothing bad happened, I promise!" she added, seeing Willow''s frigid gaze. "It still turned into a sleeping potion in the end!"


    Willow had half a mind to scold her for it but thought better of it. It was not like this world had the internet to double-check one''s answers on the fly. Sometimes, the only way forward was trial and error, plus a healthy amount of caution. She would let it go. For now.


    "This sixth step," she said. "Exothermic or endothermic?"


    Rise looked at her blankly. "Uh..."


    Ah. Right. Different world. She kept on forgetting that.


    "Sorry, I misspoke. In vis mana or ex vis mana?"


    "Oh, ex vis mana."


    "So you''re boiling it to extract the mana?"


    "Yes...?"


    Everything has mana, each with their own innate properties. Alchemists mix, extract, and even discard mana from their ingredients and use the physical elements as a medium. From there, potions were not too different from a conventional spell. Spells in a bottle, as it were.


    The problem was when the physical laws failed to play nice.


    "...Okay. I think I understand now."


    Rika balked. "Did you figure something out already?"


    "Just a theory. Have you tried using a cold scroll instead?"


    "Of course not. Mana wouldn''t come out if I did."


    "Humor me."


    The little Alchemist gave her a look but obliged with a shrug. She replaced the heating scroll with a freezing one. There was no other change to the setup, but it was all she needed. Despite her stature, each step was done swiftly and cleanly as her tail bounced with every way she moved throughout the alchemy table, like it was second nature. She must''ve tried and failed dozens of times to be this proficient. And when she reached the sixth step...


    The blue murky concoction had turned transparent green exactly as the instructions said it should.


    "...Eh?" Rika almost had her entire body turned over the table trying to look at the flask. "Eh?! Just like that? How does that even work?!"


    Willow pulled the girl away because it was getting a little dangerous. Now, how to explain Le Chatelier''s Principle in the context of alchemy...


    "The solution is reversible. Boiling the solution to extract mana is common sense, but for some solutions like this, it can backfire," Willow explained. "All things seek balance. Adding heat will force the scales to tilt the other way to compensate. So, it partially reverts back to its ingredients¡ªand the mana stays locked up, reducing purity."


    "Balance..." The word made Rika frown in thought. "You almost sound like Granny. Are you saying all of alchemy has the potential to reverse?"


    Quick on the uptake, as always. Rika would do well if she attended the Magic Towers.


    "Depending on the conditions, yes," Willow said. "This might be what your grandmother is trying to teach you. [Synthesis] skips the work and the process at the cost of your mana. But if the conditions are wrong, the product might undo itself midway. Best case scenario, the potion will be less pure. Worst case? Boom."


    "Oh, no..." Rika held her head, ears pressed flat. "I wish the Goddess would just tell me these things when I got the Skill. Granny is going to be so smug about this..."


    "...Relying on the enlightenment of the Divine Glass can only go so far. A little bit of embarrassment now could save your life."


    "Easy for you to say," Rika groused. "Have you ever argued with your own teacher? And lost?"


    "...I did. In front of the entire classroom." Willow paused. "It was not pleasant."


    A silence hung over the two.


    Rika coughed. "Well. Glad I''m never going to the Collegium then. Any other surprises?"


    "The [Synthesis] spell does have an inherent workaround."


    "Eh?" Her ears perked up. "R-Really?"


    "When you reach a proficiency of Silver, the [Synthesis] spell has this exploitable quirk where¡ª"


    Pomf!


    A big fluffy tail smothered her face.


    Willow pushed it away, blinking until she found her focus, and glared at the little Alchemist. "As I was saying..."


    "No, no! Stuff it, sister." Rika wielded her own tail like it was a weapon. "You can sell me that info later, when you buy another set of mana potions. Honestly, you act like an education should be free or something."


    ...Willow never realized a statement could sound so sad until she heard it.


    Taking Willow''s silence for obedience, Rika lowered her tail. She sighed. "But now what? We can''t extract the mana when it''s cold."


    "...I''m not familiar with eastern alchemy, so this is just a guess," Willow slowly said, taking a step back in case Rika would silence her with that tail again, "but isn''t that what the yin and yang runes on the table are for?"


    Rika made a face. Scrambling, she dove into the scroll. With her nose so deep, the only things Willow could see were her big ears twitching like mad from behind the parchment...until they stopped.


    Rika dropped the scroll.


    "The alchemy sets were placed on the wrong sides!"


    Willow was left to watch the rest unfold. And she had to admit, it was scary.


    The little Alchemist was ballistic. She blazed through the last several steps of the assignment, not even blinking. Not once. Possessed, like a demon. She brewed the potion to completion, enriching the latent magic with each pass. Once the last ingredient¡ªsome finely crushed Blue Musky flowers¡ªwas stirred in, the end product was a corked bottle of hazy lavender.


    The moment of truth. Rika pulled out a device, similar to a pocket watch, where a crystal shard stuck out like an antenna. She pressed it onto the bottle. The two watched as the needle turned from zero to...


    "...ninety-six percent?" Rika whispered. "I heard this much could almost knock out a dwarf!"


    Ninety percent was the standard. But ninety-five percent and above¡ªthat was the battlefield of masters.


    Willow found herself staring at Rika, who cradled the bottle to her cheek like it was liquid gold, and she had a thought. If Rika had been doing it wrong, how did she get as high as eighty-eight percent in the first place? The adjustments needed to be ridiculously precise. If things were flowing in the way she thought they were...


    ...was she looking at the next Grand Alchemist?


    "Oooh~! I gotta show this to Granny Yoko!" Rika grabbed Willow by the hand. "Come on!"


    "H-Hey!"


    Out of the lab. Through the hall. They bowelled through the stuff in their way, casting a breeze strong enough for Healing Bellflowers to wind up on Willow''s forehead. They ran until they burst through the curtains and back into the Red Apothecary''s storefront.


    "Look, look, look! Granny Yoko! I did it! I actually¡ªhuh?"


    While they were gone, the tables had been moved, all save for one. The table had the goods on display cleared off, and replacing them was a large set of empty old jars spread evenly throughout the top. There, the Merchant and the Witch stood on opposite sides. Tense. Solemn.


    To the right was the Witch. Her wicked smile was gone. She was stiff as a gargoyle, and the only thing moving was her finger on her cane like a trigger.


    To the left was the Merchant. Gone was the coward, the sniveling, pathetic excuse of a wolf. Sharp ears and even sharper eyes were locked forward, her face etched in a perpetual scowl.


    "White Mage, just in time." Even as she addressed her, the Merchant''s gaze never left her foe, as if looking away would lose her the war. "I have come to learn about herbs found only around Risadel. They''re considered precious in other parts of the region. If I could procure the goods and sell them to the apothecaries or guild branches outside of Risadel, I would have enough funds to feed Sven for a month. Miss Yoko has been kind enough to offer these jars at a discount to begin my endeavors."


    "...And how are you paying?" Willow asked but felt she already knew the answer. "Your money is still locked up in your wagon in the repair shop."


    "Quite right." Magni held up a palm. "I need to borrow 20 gald."


    "..."


    <hr>


    "Good doing business with you! Please come again~!"


    Rika waved as the Merchant and White Mage left with their arms full of empty jars that they bought for only 20 gald. They were too occupied to wave back, but Magni smiled widely enough for the both of them. That was the last Rika saw before Granny Yoko relinquished the telekinesis on the door and the bells chimed their mystical chimes.


    Rika lowered her hand, waiting for the chimes to go quiet.


    "Hilarious," the Witch smiled. "Pitiful but hilarious. I hope that little wolf comes again. It won''t be as interesting with just the White Mage."


    "...Granny. When will you drop the illusions and the creepy old lady act?"


    "You will understand when you are older, when you''re surrounded by lovestruck fools, harassed by so-called paramours."


    "It couldn''t have been that bad."


    "Never underestimate the foolishness of men and women! If my past admirers ever hear of me, they would come from all corners of the Kingdom¡ªand even the ends of the world! Like roaches!" Granny Yoko shuddered in revulsion. "The things they say and do to get your attention..."


    "Well, can''t you try something else?" Rika grumbled. "We barely make ends meet because you keep scaring the customers away."


    "We will manage just as we always have, brat! Besides, our regular seems fine with my appearance."


    "I bet that''s because she already figured it out," Rika muttered.


    "Bah! My disguise is perfect! How could she possibly have seen through me, a master of the illusionary school, Mistress of the Mist?!"


    <hr>


    Nobody could be that cartoonishly hideous. A witch could only be so ugly before it became too much to be played straight. It was no hard stretch to assume Yoko used potions for a temporary transformation or an illusion spell. Then there were the fox ears, the mischief, her name, and the use of eastern alchemy¡ªtextbook tropes of the elusive kitsune.


    And in what modern light novel or JRPG world would there be an ugly kitsune?


    Even without the tropes, some of the highest-level Alchemists were magnates of the beauty industry for a reason. Skin rejuvenation and de-aging formulas were sold to the highest bidder. A skilled alchemist wouldn''t let themselves fall from grace so hard if they could help it, no matter their age.


    Conclusion: Yoko was in disguise, perhaps played for laughs, like avoiding her ex-boyfriends or something, or perhaps to hide from pursuers due to her relation with royalty in this world''s version of an "eastern" nation. Or brought ruin to a kingdom or two.


    All the more reason to keep tabs on the Red Apothecary.


    "I''ll pay you back as soon as I return these to the wagon." Magni hefted the jars to get a better grip, giggling like they''re her babies. "Oh, I can''t wait! It would be like I''m a real Merchant again!"


    "Right. Don''t mention it."


    "No, really. Thanks. I don''t think there''s anyone in the Kingdom who would throw money around like you do."


    "Mhm."


    Frankly, Willow was treating her like one of those NPCs who start off insignificant until, with enough investment, they sell you the equivalent of the Infinite -1 Sword. She had her doubts. A lot of doubts, actually, but helping out couldn''t hurt¡ªso long as it was within budget.


    "By the way," Magni began, "about what you said last night. Are you really sure something would go down between Nikolas and Gaius?"


    "...It''s tradition," Willow said. "In Risadel, people pick a fight one way or another. Guys especially. Happens often enough that the guildhall officiates a betting pool. With the way his party was set up and his personality, I figured he would take issue with something eventually. But it''s only a guess."


    "A guess? You make it sound like a prophecy."


    Willow snorted. "At least I''m not saying any dates."


    She was not too far off the mark so far. If she was right about this next part, then she could consider the ''plot'' well underway. Hopefully, she still had a few days to prepare before anything big happened. When was the last time she trained her Skills?


    "Funny you mention it, actually. This could happen next year. Next month. Next week." Magni giggled. "Or today, while we''re out here talking! Guess we''ll find out when we find out, huh?"


    "..."


    "...White Mage? What''s wrong? Why did we stop?"


    Willow gulped. "Change of plans. We''re heading to the guild."


    "H-Huh? White Mage, what has gotten into you? Are we really¡ªhey! Careful with those! They''re thick, but it''s still made of glass! W-Wait up!"


    <hr>


    Willow''s heart pounded as she barreled through Bard Street. Everything else was a blur, her sights set on the guildhall building atop that hill. She at least had the sense to notice Magni keeping apace beside her.


    Rearing up from the hill''s curve, she heard noise. It was still too early in the day for any commotion. Not for any celebration, nor for any announcement.


    Upon the entrance of the guildhall, she could make out shouts, cheers, and hollers. There was nobody to berate or glare at her when she threw open the doors, because everyone was too focused on something else, forming a ring around today''s show.


    She dumped the jars onto an abandoned table before marching through the crowd, pushing through the broad and lanky arms of Dragon Tale''s adventurers, only to bump into someone''s back. That person gasped. They spun around.


    Claire the Cleric and Willow the White Mage''s eyes met. Surprise and worry filtered through the woman''s features. Her lips parted, like she was about to say something, but stopped.


    Slowly, their gazes turned to the fight.


    To Nikolas on his knees.


    To Gaius towering over him.


    They all had come back from their quest. It had only been one goddamn day.