My eyes dart around the bulletin board full of papers, scanning each one carefully.
They were separated by grade classes.
Reading the grade 1 quests, they seem like unimportant, boring ones.
There was one quest about repairing the roof of a house due to an incident, while another one was collecting a species of flowers.
Boring.
It looks like I got my hopes up about becoming an adventurer. I thought that the jobs would be something like slaying monsters. All of these just look like simple chores.
I look around, spotting one that catches my eye.
This one looks promising.
I read it.
Job Request:
Kill and collect the bodies of 10 Skreelets found in Elderglen Forest.
Reward: 5 iron coins.
This doesn't seem bad.
Certainly not compared to the others that don't allow me to make full use of my magic.
I need to train my mana in order to strengthen my spells and get to the next tier as quickly as I can.
I reached for the paper, fingers curling around its edge, but just as I was about to tear it free, something beneath it snagged my attention. Another quest—older, nearly hidden—its faded ink and frayed edges seemed to whisper to me, darker and far more compelling than the rest.
JobRequest:
Venture to Velwood Forest and collect the gem that rests on the neck of the Gravenmaw found in the dungeon.
Reward: 2 bronze coins.
Recommended Party Count: 10 people
My eyes widen at the absurd amount.
2 BRONZE COINS?!? That's one hundred times the normal amount of a regular grade 1 quest.
100 iron coins make up 1 bronze coin, and it goes the same for every coin, with the order being: iron, bronze, silver, and gold.
With 2 bronze coins, I won't have to worry about my financial state for at least a couple of weeks.
And it's a dungeon? That's practically what I was begging for. It's absolutely perfect for me to test out some new spells.
I move closer to the paper and read it again carefully.
Recommended Party Count: 10 people
That one phrase is moving constantly around my head. Perhaps it's just a safety guideline.
However, it does sound dangerous if it's a dungeon that's recommended for a party of ten.
I look back at the reward.
But the money it promises far outweighs the risk.
I grab the paper and make my way through the crowd of people before stopping abruptly.
Wait, where is Velwood Forest?
I still don't know any landmarks, just that this town is named Briarhelm.
From my experience for the past few weeks that I've been wandering around this world, I found out a number of things.
The town that I'm in, which is Briarhelm, is a week's trip by carriage from the capital, which is the Royse Kingdom. This is still their territory, but not the main part.
I assumed that I was in the capital based on how big this town was.
But still, I should ask someone for directions.
I approach a man, short in stature, but solid as stone, with a jagged scar carving down over his right eye. A massive, battle-worn axe hangs across his back, its weight pulling at his frame, yet he stands unmoved, radiating a quiet, brutal strength.
"Pardon me, but do you know where I could find Velwood Forest?"
The short man turns, his one good eye locking onto me with sharp precision. He scans me slowly, head to toe, like a predator sizing up prey—or a soldier weighing the worth of an ally.
"What's a kid like you wanna do in a place like Velwood?"
"I've got a quest there," I show him the quest paper in my hand for a brief second.
He leans in closer, quickly reading it.
"I see," he mutters, eyes narrowing slightly as he thinks. "It's about half a day's walk east—but if you've got a brain, you'll buy yourself a Sylph. Terrain out there doesn't take kindly to people getting lost."
I take a brief pause, processing what he says.
"What's a Sylph?" I ask, leaning in slightly, my voice edged with curiosity and a growing sense of urgency.
The man shakes his head slowly, a mix of disbelief and pity flickering across his scarred face. "A Sylph's a lesser spirit," he grumbles, as if explaining the obvious, "it guides people to wherever they've got in mind—but only once. One use, and it's gone."
He pauses, eyeing me with a grim, almost reluctant concern. "Look, kid… I can tell you're new to all this. You don't want any part of what's out there. That place chews up people like you fast. You and whoever you're partying with won't last a second in that hell."
I offer him a kindhearted smile, brushing off the weight of his warning. "I think I'll be fine, thanks," I say calmly, voice steady. "But do you know where I can buy Sylphs?"
He shrugs, "Alright, bud, I tried to warn ya. But if you're lookin' to buy Sylphs, the market down in that direction is yer best bet." He points to a spot outside the hall.
"Alright, thank you very much, sir," I say, giving a small bow before leaving.
How funny.
That imbecile really thinks that I can't handle it?
Don't make me laugh.
I push open the massive wooden doors of the guild hall and stride in the direction the man had pointed, my gaze sharp as I hunt for the market amidst the twisting, shadowed streets.
I wandered through winding streets, momentarily lost, until I stumbled onto a bustling thoroughfare alive with noise and movement. Merchants stood behind weathered booths, their voices rising over the clamor as they hawked wares and hammered out deals with eager buyers.
I moved from stall to stall, questioning vendor after vendor about the elusive Sylph, but each time, the answer was the same—they had none to offer.
I guess it's a rare item.
As I'm talking to another merchant, he tells me the same thing.
"Sorry, I don't have a Sylph."
Just as I was about to walk away, a gloved hand suddenly tugged at my cloak. I whirled around to find a man cloaked in a dark hood, his face hidden in shadow. The air around him felt cold, and a chill ran down my spine as I wondered what he wanted.
"Hello, sir, I couldn't help but overhear that you were in search of a Sylph?"
He stretches his arms out slowly, pointing his hand into an alleyway.
"Follow me, sir, you are just in luck, I've got just a limited stock left."
He walks in the direction that he pointed, expecting me to follow.
I don't like this.
This guy couldn't look more suspicious.
But I need this.
Nobody else has a Sylph.
I walk slowly behind him, looking around cautiously and aware of my surroundings, waiting for anything to strike me at any moment.
The man notices my uneasiness and tries to calm me.
"I reassure you, sir, nothing will jump out at you. I'm simply in need of customers. You can be at ease."
I follow as he leads me into a narrow, dim alley choked with shadows and the stench of rot. At the end stands a decrepit, sagging shop—its wood blackened with age, the windows too clouded to see through.
Without a word, he creaks the door open, its hinges wailing, then steps aside and gestures for me to enter.
I walk through, still on my guard.
He slips in behind me, the door groaning shut on its own. The air inside is stale and thick with dust. Without speaking, he moves behind the counter, his motions deliberate and oddly practiced. His fingers trail along the decaying shelves, brushing aside cobwebs and aged bottles, until finally settling on a small, weathered box tucked in the far corner. He pulls it down carefully, as if it were something fragile or dangerous.
He sets it on the counter.
"10 iron coins, please," he says, holding his hand out.
10 iron coins? That's not a bad deal. But he could be scamming me.
I reach out to the box, my hand gently opening it.
"Oops, sorry, sir," he says as he grabs it back, ensuring that it's closed. "I'm afraid that you have to keep it closed until you actually use it."
I don't really know how Sylphs work, so I guess it could work that way.
I pull out 10 iron coins from my pocket and set them on the counter, grabbing the box and leaving the shop.
"Thank you very much, sir."
Glancing behind me at the closing door, it looked like the merchant was giving a sinister look.
I didn't really get a good look. It's probably just my imagination.
I step out of the alley's shadow and into the dim light of the fading day. The town's gate looms ahead, its iron hinges creaking as I pass through. Beyond it, a long, winding dirt path stretches into the distance, swallowed by the encroaching fog of dusk.
I unlatch the box and lift the lid—suddenly, a blinding light bursts forth, forcing my eyes to squint against the brilliance. Startled, I lose my grip, and the box slips from my hands, hitting the ground with a soft thud. From within, the light begins to take shape—glowing, fluid, almost sentient. It drifts forward slowly, as if beckoned by something unseen, gliding just above the dirt path.
Oh, that's right. It already knows where I want to go.
I walk right behind the Sylph as it leads me along the path.
After half a day's journey, the Sylph leads me to the edge of a vast, ancient forest. Towering red trees loom over me—gnarled and massive, their branches intertwining so thickly above that the sunlight barely touches the forest floor. It feels like stepping into another world, one forgotten by time. Though it's still day, the dense canopy turns everything into a twilight haze, the air growing colder and heavier with each step.
This must be Velwood Forest.
I press forward, guided only by the faint, ethereal glow of the Sylph as it glides between the roots and vines like a ghost. Every crack of a branch underfoot echoes unnaturally loud in the oppressive stillness. The deeper I go, the more the forest feels alive, watching, waiting.
After nearly an hour of trudging through the suffocating shadows of Velwood Forest, the Sylph halts, its glow flickering slightly as if in hesitation. Before me stands a gaping cave, its mouth jagged like the maw of some ancient beast. The walls pulse faintly with a sickly, unnatural hue—an ominous aura that seems to whisper a warning, cold and clear:
Turn back.
A heavy, oppressive silence surrounds the entrance, as though the forest itself is holding its breath. The air is colder here, thick with the scent of damp earth and something far more foul—decay, old and buried deep.
And yet, this is the place.
The Sylph disappears, and the light that guided me disappears as I am left looking at nothing but darkness.
Thinking quickly, I slowly move around, crawling on the floor, trying to find a branch.
My fingers wrap around something coarse and uneven, the texture biting into my skin with splinters. I give it a small shake—rustle—dry leaves still cling to it, brittle and dead.
I close my eyes and focus, envisioning an owl. Its eyes. Those haunting, unblinking eyes that pierce through the veil of night as if darkness were nothing but a thin mist. I reach into that vision, drawing from the stillness of the nocturnal predator, and channel the spell through my eyes.
Nyxseer.
The world around me begins to light up, leaving not a sliver of a shadow. It almost seems like the sun was cast directly above the trees.
I get up from the ground and walk towards the entrance of the cave, its aura illuminating over me.
Now's not the time to get cold feet.
I pluck up my courage...
And venture forth into the depths of the unknown cave.