...
{Ember's POV}
I stood in front of the establishment, carefully examining the building before me.
There was no mistaking it—it was a potion shop.
Since there were no potion makers in this town, most of the goods were imported from nearby regions.
Because of that, the prices here were slightly higher than the usual market rate, though still cheaper than what you'd find in Orario.
With that in mind, I stepped through the open gate.
The moment I entered, a woman greeted me with a professional smile.
"Welcome, sir! This is Merry Potions Shop! We have a wide range of potions available—standard Potions, Mind Potions, High Potions, and various other supplies!" she said enthusiastically, clearly proud of their stock.
"I'd like to buy ten regular Potions, two Mind Potions, one High Potion, and seven poison bags," I replied quickly, listing out what I needed without wasting time.
Her eyes brightened instantly at the size of the order—it was obviously a large one for a single customer—so she hurried to collect the items without delay.
After a short while, she came back and said, "Each Potion costs 400 valis, a Mind Potion is 9,000 valis, and a High Potion currently goes for 15,000 valis. As for the poison bags, they're 100 valis each. So that brings your total to… around 37,700 valis."
I winced internally at the total, but I managed to keep my expression calm.
Without saying a word, I pulled out several small pouches from my belt.
Each pouch contained about 10,000 valis.
After quickly sorting and counting them in front of her, I handed over the exact amount and collected the items I had ordered.
'Damn,' I thought to myself, 'now that I no longer have the support of my monthly allowance, these expenses are really starting to hurt. Well, I still have about three million valis saved up, so it's not that big of a deal for now.'
Just last week, I'd earned around 46,000 valis from hunting with the party, which was enough to cover all my recent expenses.
'Let's see,' I mentally reviewed my supplies.
'I've still got two Elixirs stored away, and now, with this purchase, that makes about seven High Potions in total. I've got ten regular Potions, two Mind Potions, and around seven and a half poison bags left.'
I carefully went over the count again in my head, making sure I hadn't missed anything, and then nodded slightly to myself, satisfied that I had everything I needed for the time being.
I quickly stored the potions I had just bought inside my room, making sure they were kept somewhere safe and hidden.
Behind my cupboard, I had secretly broken through a section of the wall and created a concealed storage space.
It wasn't large, but it was well-hidden, and I had carefully crafted the opening so that when it was sealed, the sound it made blended perfectly with the rest of the wall—no one would be able to tell the difference even if they knocked around that area.
After securing everything inside, I took out two Mind Potions, three regular Potions, and one High Potion, placing them in my pouch for immediate use before heading out for the hunt.
Thanks to my recent days of adventuring, I had gotten a decent grasp of the geography surrounding Argon Town.
The entire settlement was bordered by a vast forest, and the monsters tended to cluster in specific regions.
The northeastern side and the southwestern side were the most dangerous zones.
The northeastern forest stretched toward the infamous Dragon Valley, while the southwestern direction led toward the route connecting to Orario.
Both areas had dense monster activity, so it wasn't surprising that those places were crawling with stronger beasts compared to other parts of the woods.
Using the natural agility granted by my race and my slightly superhuman physical abilities, I moved swiftly through the forest.
I jumped effortlessly from one tree branch to another, keeping my movements light and silent while I avoided unnecessary fights with weak monsters like kobolds and goblins that occasionally appeared along the path.
Eventually, I spotted a group of Killer Ants moving in formation—a small horde of them occupying an open patch of forest ground.
I crouched down on a branch and observed them closely, watching their movements and the surrounding area to make sure there were no other threats nearby.
After confirming that the coast was clear, I made my move.
With a sudden leap, I descended from the tree and landed directly on top of one of the Killer Ants, driving my sword straight through its carapace and piercing its core.
"Screech! Screech!"
The rest of the ants immediately reacted to their fallen comrade, their mandibles clacking violently as they all turned toward me in unison.
I smirked in response, tightening my grip on my weapon, and charged straight at them without hesitation. In one swift motion, I swung my sword horizontally, cutting one ant clean in half.
I followed it up with another precise thrust that pierced through another ant, the impact strong enough to crush its magic stone, disintegrating its body completely.
Their chitin cracked and splattered as my sword tore through their ranks.
My blade—crafted with excellent precision and quality—was built for battle against even Level 5 monsters, so these Killer Ants stood no real chance.
Combined with my physical strength and speed, the fight ended swiftly.
Within a few minutes, the entire swarm was lying motionless on the forest floor, their magic stones ready to be extracted and collected.
Just as I began to relax and sheath my sword, a sudden rustling sound came from the nearby bushes.
My instincts kicked in instantly, and I shifted my stance, preparing for another fight.
Then, before I could act, a voice called out sharply, "Wait a minute, Sir Elf!"
I turned toward the source of the sound, sword still in hand, and saw four individuals emerging from the foliage—three men and one woman. I recognized them almost immediately.
I had seen this particular party several times back at the Guild.
My eyes narrowed slightly as I watched their every move, my body tense and ready.
Without lowering my guard, I was ready to prepare a chant, just in case things took a hostile turn.
Meanwhile, I sharpened my focus and heightened my senses, paying close attention to the faintest sounds around me.
My main concern was whether there was a hidden archer aiming from a distance—it wouldn't have been surprising if they had one covering their group.
I slightly shifted my stance, preparing to dodge the moment I heard the slightest movement.
The man in front of me noticed my tension and quickly raised his hands in surrender, speaking in a calm and careful tone.
"Sir Tithonus," he said, "I completely understand your caution, but please, hear me out before you do anything rash. We don't have any hostile intentions. It's just that we happened to be hunting in this area when we saw you take down that entire horde of Killer Ants by yourself. To be honest, I was impressed. I also know that you're associated with Chad's team, but if I'm correct, you're not an official member of it. So, I was wondering—would you be interested in forming a party with us?"
I didn't relax immediately.
My instincts told me that he wasn't lying—his tone, posture, and heartbeat all seemed honest enough—but experience had taught me that it was better to be cautious than dead.
I pretended to loosen up, lowering my sword slightly and easing my stance, but inwardly I remained on full alert.
I could still picture an arrow flying out of nowhere and piercing through my head, so I kept my ears trained on the surroundings.
However, after a few seconds of silence and no sudden movements or arrows, I allowed myself to relax just a bit more.
Looking directly at their party, I finally responded in a calm but firm tone, "Thank you for your offer, but I have no intention of joining a party right now."
My words seemed to disappoint him; the man's expression visibly changed, his shoulders drooping slightly as he gave a short sigh, clearly regretting that his proposal had been turned down.
Despite that, they didn't try to press the matter.
After exchanging a few polite parting words, they turned around and left the area, disappearing back into the forest.
Once I was certain they were gone, I exhaled slowly, releasing the tension I had been holding in my muscles.
My eyes fell back on the ground where the remains of the Killer Ants were scattered.
Their carcasses lay in heaps, their once hard carapaces cracked and splattered from the fight. I sheathed my sword carefully and pulled out my dagger.
Then, crouching beside the fallen monsters, I began cutting them open one by one to extract their magic stones.
Thankfully, the anatomy of these monsters was well documented, and every species had a consistent location for their magic stone, which made the process quicker and cleaner.
Within a short while, I had collected a total of fifty-six magic stones.
It was a solid haul—probably equivalent to what that guy's entire party could earn in a full day of hunting.
But for me, this was just a warm-up, merely the beginning of my day's work. After finishing the cleanup, I climbed up a nearby tree to rest for a moment.
Settling comfortably on a sturdy branch, I pulled out a small wrapped bundle from my pouch.
Inside was a portion of dried jerky I had packed earlier.
I tore off a piece and began chewing slowly while taking a few gulps of water from my flask
. The quiet rustling of the forest wind and the distant sounds of wildlife filled the silence around me.
Once I had eaten enough and felt my stamina returning, I stretched my arms, stood up on the branch, and took a deep breath.
Then, without wasting any more time, I started moving again—hopping nimbly from one tree to another, continuing my hunt deeper into the forest.
...
I stared at the creature standing before me, its grotesque form illuminated faintly by the scattered light filtering through the forest canopy.
No matter the world—be it in games, fiction, or reality—these things were always hideous.
The creature in front of me was an Orc, one of those repulsive pig-faced monsters infamous for their sheer physical power.
In this world, they were classified as Level 1 monsters, but despite that, they were considered exceptionally strong compared to others of the same rank.
Facing them head-on without preparation was basically suicide; only a Level 2 adventurer would dare to engage them directly and expect to live.
"Cremation!" I shouted, releasing a burst of magic.
My chant caught them completely off guard.
A fiery explosion erupted in front of me, consuming several Orcs in blazing heat.
The shockwave scattered dirt and debris as their bodies burned and collapsed.
When the smoke cleared, only two of them remained standing—both heavily wounded, their thick hides scorched and blackened from the blast.
I leapt down from the tree I had been perched on and landed lightly on the ground.
Meeting an Orc head-on was far too dangerous, even if these surface-dwelling ones were weaker than their dungeon counterparts.
The dungeon variants were notorious for overpowering even Level 2 adventurers with their brute strength.
Still, that didn't mean these ones were harmless.
I started circling around the two remaining Orcs, moving fast and keeping my distance, using the trees and undergrowth to stay out of their direct line of attack.
Once I had maneuvered behind them, I took my chance.
I dashed forward at full speed, closing in on the Orc trailing behind the other.
The beast noticed me and let out a deep, rumbling roar before swinging its massive arm.
I ducked beneath the blow and countered immediately—my blade sliced cleanly through its thick forearm, sending blood splattering across the ground.
Using the momentum from my dodge, I pivoted around behind it, jumped up onto its back, and drove my sword straight through its throat.
The Orc let out a choking gurgle before collapsing face-first into the dirt, dead before it could even hit the ground.
I didn't waste time.
The other Orc had already noticed its comrade's fall and came charging at me with a thunderous roar.
I moved to the side with quick, agile steps, narrowly avoiding its strike as its massive fist slammed into the earth where I had been standing a moment ago.
Taking advantage of the opening, I slashed at its side, leaving a deep wound.
The creature bellowed in pain and turned toward me again, swinging wildly.
I backstepped to avoid another hit and immediately darted away, forcing it to chase me.
When it lunged again, I sidestepped sharply and slipped behind it.
This time, I didn't hesitate.
I leapt upward, gripping my sword tightly, and thrust it downward with full force into the back of its head. The blade sank deep, piercing through bone.
The Orc screamed in agony before falling forward with a heavy thud, its massive body hitting the ground lifelessly.
Breathing heavily, I took a step back and quickly scanned my surroundings, making sure there weren't any more enemies lurking nearby.
My eyes caught some movement—a lone goblin, probably drawn by the noise of the battle, came charging toward me with a crude dagger in hand.
I didn't even bother to draw things out; a swift slash ended its life instantly.
After that, the forest grew quiet again.
Satisfied that there were no other threats, I began working quickly.
I knelt beside the corpses of the fallen monsters and began cutting them open to extract their magic stones.
It was messy work, but a necessary one.
Since every recorded monster species had a specific place where its magic stone was located, I didn't have to waste much time searching.
Within a few minutes, I had collected all of them.
Once the task was done, I climbed up the nearest tree to rest. Settling myself comfortably on a thick branch, I pulled out my waterskin and took a few sips before chewing on some dried jerky.
The fatigue from the battle slowly began to ease as I rested.
Just as I was about to relax completely, a thunderous roar echoed through the forest, shaking the nearby branches.
I froze and immediately climbed higher, trying to get a clearer view of where it had come from.
When I finally reached a good vantage point, my eyes widened.
'An Infant Dragon,' I realized instantly.
Its massive, scaled form was unmistakable even from a distance.
A Level 2 monster—stronger, faster, and far deadlier than an average Minotaur.
Facing something like that head-on would mean certain death for someone at my level.
I clenched my fists as I considered my options.
There were only two paths available: retreat and live, or advance and risk everything.
I knew I couldn't kill it in close combat—my current strength wouldn't allow that—but with my magic, I might just have a chance.
Still, one thing didn't sit right with me.
'Why is a Level 2 monster here?' I thought, narrowing my eyes.
This region was known for hosting only Level 1 monsters.
An Infant Dragon appearing here didn't make sense—it was unnatural.
Something was off.
But this wasn't the place or time to dwell on that mystery.
Making a quick decision, I began moving again, leaping from tree to tree, from one high branch to the next.
As I advanced, I started chanting under my breath, preparing my next spell.
The hunt was far from over.
...
3rd POV
"O' Flames of Legends! Burn brighter than thy enemy!" Ember's voice echoed through the forest as he continued his chant.
He leapt onto another tree, grabbing a thick branch mid-air and using it to swing himself higher before landing firmly atop another sturdy limb.
His movements became sharper, quicker, and smoother with each jump.
The speed at which he was moving was gradually becoming something beyond human—his agility, balance, and momentum all blended together like a blur.
To an observer, his relentless pace might have seemed reckless, even suicidal, yet there was purpose behind every leap and movement.
Many might question why someone like him would push himself this far.
After all, he was born into royalty—an Elf of noble blood, surrounded by powerful high-elves who served as his guardians, and blessed with a life of luxury, wealth, and safety.
With such a background, what drove him to risk everything and fight monsters alone in the wild?
"Turn them into cinders! Let their ashes wash in your blue flames!" he continued, his voice steady and full of focus as he chanted the next line.
The answer to that question was clear to him, clearer than anything else in his life.
This—right here—was why he fought.
He wasn't doing it for vengeance, or to fulfill some tragic, cliché destiny.
He wasn't motivated by hatred or loss.
His reason was far simpler and far more personal.
He had chosen to leave the safety of his home, abandoning the life of a pampered noble, because he wanted to see the world—to experience its wonders firsthand, to travel across lands that once existed only in fantasy for him.
He wanted to witness the mystical sights and legends with his own eyes.
To accomplish that, he needed strength—true strength.
His determination didn't come from tragedy; it came from ambition.
His drive wasn't born from pain, but from desire—an ever-burning, unyielding flame inside his heart that refused to fade.
He wanted an adventure.
"Cremation!" Ember shouted, completing his chant as he reached the area near the Infant Dragon.
[Illustration]
The enormous creature turned toward him, its scales gleaming faintly under the moonlight.
It roared, spreading its wings wide, but before it could even make a move, a torrent of blazing blue fire erupted from Ember's magic circle.
The blue flames descended like a storm of destruction, engulfing the beast in a wave of searing heat.
The Infant Dragon's thick scales—once its greatest pride and defense—melted under the intense magical inferno.
Its muscles shriveled, its flesh blackened, and in just a few short moments, its mighty life force flickered and vanished like a dying ember.
With one last shriek of agony, the creature collapsed, its body smoldering before finally falling still.
Ember, however, wasn't unscathed.
As he descended from his final jump, his legs hit the ground hard, sending a painful shock through his body.
"Ha—ha! Holy Mother of cow! That was reckless as hell and freaking fantastic!" he laughed breathlessly, wincing as pain shot up his legs.
Despite the exhaustion and the stinging ache, a wild grin spread across his face as he looked at the dragon's lifeless corpse.
He had done it.
The monster was dead.
He could feel the depletion of his mana—nearly half of it had been used in that one spell—but it was worth it.
Technically, he could've defeated the Infant Dragon with less power; after all, this wasn't the first time he had slain one.
He'd done it before—before he had even received his Falna.
But this time, he didn't want to take any chances.
He wanted to make absolutely sure the creature was dead, that it wouldn't survive by some miracle.
So he had gone all out, burning it completely until nothing but ash and bone remained.
After a few moments of laughing at his own recklessness, Ember forced himself to stand up.
His legs were still trembling slightly, the numbness reminding him of how high he had fallen from.
But his grin didn't fade.
Taking a small glass vial from his belt, he popped the cork and drank a Health Potion in one go, feeling the warm sensation of healing flow through his body.
Once done, he carefully tucked the empty vial back into his pocket.
He then walked toward the smoldering corpse of the Infant Dragon.
As he began cutting through the charred flesh, the body started to dissolve, its remnants dissipating into shimmering particles.
In its place, a large magic stone emerged, along with something unexpected—a massive dragon scale, thick and gleaming faintly with residual mana.
Ember's eyes widened slightly.
"Well, my luck's quite good today, huh?" he muttered with a satisfied smirk.
But that satisfaction quickly turned into a small frown as a problem came to mind.
He couldn't bring the scale back to the guild—not openly, at least.
The magic stone could be handled easily; he could break it into smaller pieces and sell them without drawing suspicion.
But the dragon scale?
That was different.
It was a rare and valuable item that could be used to forge high-tier armor, something that would immediately attract attention.
People would start asking questions—questions that could expose how strong he really was.
And that wasn't something he wanted right now.
He was trying to maintain the image of a talented but small-scale adventurer—a young Elf striving to become a skilled Magic Swordsman.
Not a prodigy who could kill a monster above his level after barely two months of being an adventurer.
Showing up with a dragon scale would shatter that image completely.
After pondering for a while, he made his decision.
He hid the scale deep in the forest, marking the spot carefully before heading back to town.
Later that night, once things had quieted down and the streets were empty, he returned with a bag, retrieved the scale, and brought it back discreetly to his inn.
There, he found a safe place to hide it.
'I should probably buy a house,' he thought as he finished securing the loot.
Staying at an inn had its conveniences, but it wasn't exactly ideal in the long run.
In a small rural area like Argon Town, a decent wooden house wouldn't cost much.
Even with land included, the total wouldn't exceed five hundred thousand valis, and for that price, it would still be a comfortable place to live and operate from.
For now, though, he decided to rest.
It was already past midnight.
He grabbed a quick late-night snack, too tired to even bother cooking, and then laid down on his bed.
His body ached from the day's battles, but there was a satisfied expression on his face as he drifted off to sleep.
Even as he slept, his posture remained refined and his features calm—an Elf's natural elegance unshaken by exhaustion.
And thus, with a successful hunt behind him and the promise of tomorrow ahead, Ember's first day of solo hunting finally came to an end.
To be continued...
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