(3)

The Adventurers’ Guild stood in Sepaan’s Royal Capital, a stone anchor beside a river of trade surging through the market square.

Stone houses lined the street, red tiles like sun-baked clay, stained-glass windows catching light like scattered petals on water.

Cobblestones paved the road, worn to river-pebble smooth by a tide of footsteps flowing day and night.

Sunlight slipped through seams in the clouds, laying a warm golden lacquer across the old stones like evening honey.

Bored, Lucimia raised a hand against the glaring sun, eyes flicking upward at that white coin burning the sky.

“Ugh, that sun’s stabbing my eyes like needles.”

“What are you saying? Sun brings heat and crowds, like swallows returning.” Desty skipped along like a sparrow, eyes grazing every stall. “It rained for days. The streets were empty as a dried well. Everyone prayed for clear skies, and clear skies mean easier hunting for Firegators and Redflame Dragons.”

Lucimia breathed out a thin ribbon of air, a soft sigh curling away like mist.

They had taken two days off, hearts set on hunting Firegators and dragons, a plan lit like a small campfire in their minds.

Truth be told, Firegators were the main goal, a red ember among bigger flames.

Lucimia wanted a Redflame Dragon, heat rising in her chest like a forge, but Desty feared she’d lose, her voice a cool stream.

Desty thought Lucimia lacked real combat, and that jumping straight to high-difficulty monsters was like leaping onto thin ice.

Lucimia felt battle-seasoned, the sensation like old scars under clothes, though she couldn’t say why the memory stayed fogged.

Watching Desty gleam with excitement, and feeling the dust of staying indoors settle in her own bones, Lucimia let her gaze drift like a kite over the square.

The market thrummed, a hive of sound and color, merchants calling like bell-ringers, their goods shining like fruit after rain.

Voices bargained in quick waves, a street-side symphony rising and falling like a sea breeze.

Children darted between adult legs like small fish, while shop cats and mutt dogs threaded the crowd like shadows with tails.

Without noticing, Lucimia’s lips curved, a quiet crescent moon hiding in the dusk of her mood.

“Mm. It’s… pretty nice, actually.”

She hadn’t expected one thing on this walk: Desty knew half the city, faces lighting like lanterns as they saw her.

“Eh? Desty, what brings you out today? Want a bouquet?” The florist smiled, cheeks like apples in sun. “For a good friend?”

“No need, no need!” Desty waved, laughter flicking like water off a leaf.

“Morning, Desty. That sword I forged—no issues?” The blacksmith’s muscles bunched like braided ropes under soot.

“No issues! Thanks!” Her reply rang like a hammer on clean steel.

“Yo, Desty! Drink?” A burly man lounged outside the tavern, sunlight on his mug like amber.

“Nope! I’m not drinking today!” Desty’s refusal snapped like a dry twig.

Lucimia trailed her in silence, her mood a low cloud rubbing the rooftops.

Irritated, she slipped forward and pinched Desty’s waist, the gesture quick as a sparrow peck. “You’re very popular, huh.”

“Huh?” Desty blinked, eyes clear as spring water. “Walk by enough and everyone recognizes you. Nothing special. You’re popular at the academy too. You just never go out.”

“Hmph.” The sound was a small stone tossed in a pond, ripples tight and brief.

“What’s wrong?” Desty’s voice softened, a hand offered like shade from noon.

They crossed the district and reached the Adventurers’ Guild, a building standing like an old tree with deep roots.

A massive wooden door bore a sign etched with a crest, a crossed sword and shield shining like moonlight on steel—courage and protection bound in one knot.

Two guards in leather stood by the entrance, their gazes sharp as hawks riding thermals, measuring each step that passed.

Adventurers flowed in alone or in packs, gear clinking like windchimes—swords on backs, staves in hands, bows riding shoulders like sleeping swans.

Some faces burned with anticipation, as if coin and glory were hot coals waiting; others were heavy, clouds bruised by loss.

In the Guild, joy and weight mingled, a balance like rain and clear sky sharing one horizon.

Lucimia had rarely come, usually lingering outside while waiting for Desty; strictly speaking, it was her first time truly stepping inside this beehive of quests.

Many here knew Desty, ties braided like ropes; that easy warmth pricked Lucimia’s chest, a nettle she couldn’t pluck.

They reached the quest board, parchment fluttering like migrating leaves pinned by nails.

Lucimia had an Adventurer’s License, though it lay unused like a blade kept in cloth; her rank was F-class, the lowest rung on a cold ladder.

Desty was already B-class, diligence stacked like firewood against winter’s night.

“Hey, there’s a Firegator quest still up.” Desty’s eyes brightened, little sparks in shade. “Clear the Firegators overrunning the village outskirts? Perfect. I wanted something near their haunt, but this one alone works.”

She yanked the paper free with a rustle like dry bark and dashed toward the front desk, feet tapping like drumbeats.

Halfway, she stopped short, turned, and hurried back, a sheepish smile bending like a reed in a breeze.

“What?” Lucimia’s voice was cool, a thin blade laid on a table.

“Almost forgot. Give me your Adventurer’s License. I’ll register you too.” Desty’s hand hovered, palm open like an invitation.

“Why?” Lucimia’s brows drew together, a pair of wings closing.

“You’ll rank up a bit. Isn’t that good? There’s a reward for D-class.” Desty’s grin lifted like the sun clearing a ridge.

“What reward?” Lucimia’s tone was dry, a creek in late summer.

“One free fruit juice a day.” Desty’s cheer rang like a bell.

“...” Silence pooled like still water under a bridge.

Lucimia didn’t want to hand it over, a small knot stubborn under skin; but seeing Desty set on it, she hesitated, then passed the license, the card sliding like a leaf from a branch.

Desty sprinted back to the counter, while Lucimia found a chair, settling like a cat on a windowsill—

“What?! We can’t take it?!” Desty’s shout cracked like thunder in a clear sky.

Lucimia’s seat barely warmed; she stood, brows knitting tighter, and walked to the desk, steps cold as shade.

Desty faced the receptionist, words bristling like thorns. “How is it not allowed? It’s just a Firegator-clearing quest.”

“Uh… your rank isn’t enough.” The receptionist spoke softly, voice like cloth over glass.

“Not enough?!” Desty looked down at the quest slip, where ink glared: recommended rank, S-class.

“What? S-class for clearing Firegators? You kidding me? A dragon hunt is only just S-class.” Her eyes widened, two moons pulled by tide.

“Yes…” The receptionist dipped her chin, a measured nod like a drop falling from a leaf.

“Why?”

“Because…” She glanced around, hesitating like a deer at the edge of a clearing, then leaned in, lowering her voice like dusk settling.

Lucimia tilted her head, ears pricked like a fox listening.

“Because, I heard this quest is… strange.” The word hung like smoke refusing to fade.

“Strange?” Desty’s brow rose, a hook on a line.

“Mm.” The receptionist gathered her thoughts, then let them spill like beans from a sachet. “At first, it was D-class. A D-class team took it. They never came back. Family and friends never saw them again—like they stepped off the path and vanished. No bodies. Firegators still there.”

Desty frowned, a shiver bead running down her spine like cold rain. “Something happened on the way? They couldn’t all get eaten, right? Firegators aren’t that strong.”

“That was the first thought.” The receptionist’s voice skimmed along like a leaf on water. “It’s a long-term quest. Later, two or three D-class teams took it together. One captain was a C-class, a Tier 3 Swordmaster. And then…”

“They vanished too?” Lucimia’s words came cool and clean, like a blade tapped with a fingertip.

The receptionist startled slightly at Lucimia, then relaxed as Desty pulled her closer, introducing her as a party mate, warmth spreading like tea steam.

“So, gone?” Lucimia asked again, gaze steady, pupils like still wells.

“Yes. Same pattern. No bodies.” The receptionist’s tone dropped, a lantern dimming. “People guessed the river might hide a king among them—a Firegator King at Tier 4 or 5. The quest rank jumped to B-class.”

“More teams went after, one after another.” Her words marched like footprints in damp soil. “There was even a duo—one Tier 5 Swordmaster with a Tier 4 Mage. They didn’t return. The Kingdom took notice, a hawk stirring from a high perch.”

“The Kingdom sent an elite unit to scout and clear it. Lowest combat strength, Tier 4. Their captain, Tier 6—a mountain among stones. They… didn’t come back either.” Her last syllables fell, heavy as a shut door. “No battle traces at all. Not even scratches on trees.”

Desty shuddered, the chill curling like smoke around her collarbone.

Lucimia’s frown deepened, her thoughts tightening like a knot pulled hard.

What Firegators could be so strong? A Kingdom monster-slaying unit was usually five or six squads of four to five—about twenty souls, a tight braid of steel.

If they couldn’t win, someone should have escaped to report, a single bird winging home. No battle marks? Not one broken branch?

And a matter that big, she hadn’t heard? Desty hadn’t either. The Kingdom must have sealed the news, a lid on boiling water.

This quest stank of wrongness, a swamp with no ripples.

“So they set it to S-class after that, and the Kingdom hasn’t sent stronger forces yet.” The receptionist’s advice came gentle, like a hand on a shoulder. “I suggest you two don’t take it. Safety first.”

Desty bit her lip, a small pale petal pressed thin. If not Firegators, what then? Hunt a fire dragon instead?

What about the monster materials Lucimia needed? That problem uncoiled like rope she couldn’t cut.

Lucimia’s mind turned elsewhere, gears slipping, then catching; her question came cool. “Hold on. If that’s all, why the hush-hush tone like midnight conspiracies?”

“Uh…” The receptionist faltered, a bird hopping from foot to foot.

“So there’s more under the surface?” Lucimia’s gaze held her, steady as a lake under stars.

After another hesitation, the receptionist exhaled, surrender a small flag. “Okay. I only heard rumors. Don’t spread them. Don’t say I said them.” Her hands fluttered like moths near a lamp.

“Fine. Speak.” Lucimia’s nod was slight, like frost that doesn’t crack.

“It starts with the quest issuer.” Her words lowered, a river entering reeds. “The quest came from a village by the river, called Liyu Village. Some say… the villagers killed the adventurers who went there. Why? No one knows.”

“Uh…” Desty found the rumor shaky, like a bridge missing planks.

Lucimia agreed, thoughts crisp as winter air. “You’re saying villagers killed dozens, including Tier 4 and Tier 5 adventurers, then wiped a Kingdom monster unit of twenty? No one escaped? No evidence? No battle traces?”

“Y-yes…” The receptionist winced at how flimsy it sounded, then added quickly, words tumbling like loose stones. “It’s only rumor. But since the unit vanished and the Kingdom didn’t react further, others say it might involve internal factions—political struggle in the Kingdom…”

“So don’t repeat this. One wrong word and blood might spill.” Her warning rang, a string pulled taut.

Lucimia nodded slightly, thoughts rippling like wind over wheat.

It felt unreal. Even if Liyu housed multiple Tier 8 Swordmasters or Mages, wiping people without any trace was a miracle of silence—motion always makes noise, even a cat leaves prints on snow.

Curiosity pricked her now, a thorn she couldn’t ignore.

If the village did hide several Tier 8s, what was the point? What village breeds such power? Most are lucky to send a few youths to the academy.

So maybe it was truly internal Kingdom faction work. But… she was nobility. How did she not know a storm was gathering under the court’s roof?

An earl’s rank isn’t enough? The thought pricks like winter needles.

This even involves the royal family and dukes? The rumor rolls like thunder under a lid of cloud.

Lucimia doesn’t know, and uncertainty chills like mist.

She chooses to go to Liyu Village and see for herself, like stepping into reeds to sound the water.

She needs to learn if there’s real infighting, and a Fire Gator is exactly what she needs, like a missing piece to a blade.

Once her thoughts settle like dust, she tells the receptionist, “Got it, thanks. We won’t take that job. We’ll take the boar-clearing in the nearby woods.”

“Alright, the boar job is E-rank. I’ve registered you,” the receptionist says; her quill scratches like a cricket in tall grass.

“Mm.” The reply lands soft as a falling leaf.

Lucimia then pulls Desty away from the Adventurers’ Guild, their steps like two lines drawn through sand.

Desty blurts, her words flitting like sparrows, “Hey, hey, we’re not taking the Fire Gator?”

“Who said so?” Her words click like pebbles.

“Then…” Her voice trails like pale smoke.

“I posted a quest to myself. I accepted it. We’re going there to take a look,” Lucimia says, tone straight as a blade.

Desty falls silent, her face blank like fresh snow.

Fear creeps back as the receptionist’s words echo, like a draft under a door.

Her voice trembles like leaves in the wind: “U-um… are we really going? It sounds pretty scary…”

“It’s fine. I know Teleportation Magic. If something goes wrong, we jump,” Lucimia says, calm as still water.

“I think… let’s skip it? I’m only Tier Four. Maybe we go to the next city? It’s farther, but there should be a Fire Gator habitat there too…” Her caution curls like a cat under the eaves.

She slips free of Lucimia’s hand like a fish sliding from a net.

Lucimia sees it and doesn’t get mad, her tone easy as a breeze: “It’s fine. You hunt your boars; I’ll hunt my Fire Gator.”