The magic ring, also known as a spatial ring, could only be crafted by spatial mages. The one on Alan’s finger was wrangled from a few old professors at the Arcane Academy. A ring’s value hinged entirely on the size of its internal space. Alan’s held about a hundred cubic meters—not huge, but spacious enough for his needs.
After leaving Kuze’s shop, Alan dropped by Layne’s bubble tea store. During his absence, the guild would need Layne’s watch. Though Layne was basically a walking artillery piece, his strength was no joke, and his network of shady buddies meant he could handle any guild trouble that popped up.
Haina was capable, sure—but as a fire mage, her temper ran scorching hot. If anyone dared hassle the guild while Alan was gone, she’d blast them to ashes without blinking.
Layne grinned and agreed instantly to Alan’s request. What were they, after all? Bros who’d shared classrooms, shouldered rifles together, and… *ahem*… peeked at girls showering. That kind of bond meant no refusal.
Truth be told, Layne still felt a pang of regret. Ever since Alan explained the "three irons of brotherhood," he’d been itching to drag Alan to a brothel. But Alan was stubborn. That final "iron" remained frustratingly out of reach.
"Layne," Alan asked casually after settling the guild matters, sipping the black tea Layne had brewed. He sat on a stool outside the counter. "You really plan to spend your whole life in this tiny Newdali City?"
Layne pulled out a cigarette, lit it with a flick of his thumb, and took a blissful drag. He smirked at Alan. "Still dreaming of sneaking off to chase your hero-and-Overlord fantasy, huh?"
Alan just smiled, silent.
"Tch. Knew you wouldn’t give up that easily," Layne chuckled. "But I also know you won’t leave until you’ve paid off that mountain of debt your deadbeat dad left you. Once that’s done? You’ll vanish faster than smoke."
Alan lifted his teacup, took a slow sip, and squinted over the rim. "Layne… you know too much. I might have to silence you permanently."
Layne rolled his eyes. *Big talk. Go on, try killing someone.*
"Enough nonsense," Layne cut in, ashing his cigarette. "Don’t waste breath on dreams. Just remember this: if you ever leave Newdali City, you take me with you. I like the nickname ‘walking artillery.’ I’d hate for it to go to waste."
Alan fell quiet for a long moment. Finally, he fixed Layne with a look. "You’re getting cocky. Better take care of yourself these days. Rest up. Oh—and next time? Add rock sugar to my tea. I hate plain black tea. Also…" He stood, waving as he headed for the door. "Hire a pretty girl for the counter."
Layne mulled over Alan’s words. Then he grinned. *The kid’s telling me to get ready to run.*
Adventure? To Layne, it was just fancy running away. His father certainly didn’t want him gallivanting across the continent as some vagabond adventurer. *Time to encourage the old man to take a few more wives,* Layne mused. *Get some backup sons. Adventures are dangerous. If I kick the bucket out there… well, the family line shouldn’t end with me.* He nearly choked up at his own selflessness. *Who else would push their dad to remarry? Seriously. Who?*
Back at the guild, Alan froze. Haina and Medi weren’t glaring daggers at each other. This eerie peace sent chills down his spine. He’d grown so used to their bickering that their sudden harmony felt deeply unnatural.
"The client wants you ready to leave for the Denagus Mountains tonight," Haina called from behind the bar.
"Tonight? I thought it was tomorrow." Alan frowned.
"No idea why the change," Haina shrugged. "Ask the client yourself. I’ve packed your gear. Check if you need anything else. They want you at the Dragonlord Guild by eight."
Alan ruffled his silver hair, sighing. "Got it. Emma and Sia are in your hands."
He trudged upstairs—Emma had claimed the second-floor bedroom, forcing him to the third. After changing into his mage robes and retrieving his barely-used staff from the closet, he returned downstairs.
It was just past six. He had over an hour before the meetup. No rush.
Emma watched him with clingy eyes but didn’t protest—she knew this was work. Sia just slurped her drink at the counter, unfazed. *He’ll be back.* Medi wanted to go with him but knew he’d refuse. She sulked on a stool, staring at his back.
The guild’s single members shifted uncomfortably. *Seriously? It’s just a job. Don’t make it a tearful farewell. Have some mercy on us lonely hearts.*
At 7:30 PM, Alan ruffled Sia and Emma’s hair with a smile and left. Before stepping out, he grabbed the rusty greatsword leaning in the corner. After all, he wasn’t just a mage—he was a sword-wielding prodigy too. Dual-classed and deadly.
Newdali City had three mage guilds, each dominating the busiest streets: Cloud Peak Guild on East Street, Forest Sprite Guild on West Street, and Dragonlord Guild on South Street. North Street belonged to the Adventurers’ and Mercenaries’ Guilds.
Promptly at 8 PM, Alan arrived at the Dragonlord Guild in pristine white mage robes. Every member here was female, led by their elderly guildmaster, Annya Miland.
The moment he entered, Alan spotted the client Haina described: a young female knight in gleaming silver armor and knee-high boots, a sword at her hip. Her sharp black bob and straight-backed stance radiated fierce elegance. *Impressive,* Alan thought on first glance.
Behind her stood three imposing figures: a middle-aged man with a massive two-handed sword strapped to his back; a bare-chested Barbarian hefting a mountain-splitting axe; and a pale young man in black robes. His pallor wasn’t from debauchery—it was the sickly white of someone who’d never seen sunlight.
