"Not now… I'll answer you once we get to somewhere more private," Deacon said with a wary look as he and the rest of the Ravenlight Party stepped off the teleportation platform and onto the 9th Floor. His tone made it clear he wasn't entertaining further questions – not when dozens of cadets were materializing around them in flashes of white light, and especially not with the massive hangover he was having right this moment.
Sam opened his mouth to push again, but after a brief moment of internal debate, he shut it with a click of his teeth and exhaled through his nose. "…Fine. Later," he muttered, clearly dissatisfied but not unreasonable. Discussing whether Deacon had eaten his First Place reward, an Apple of Iðunn that granted absurd permanent stats despite it being a Tier 1 natural elixir, wasn't exactly the kind of topic you shouted in public, surrounded by wandering ears that were attached to loose tongues.
Deacon took the opportunity to sweep his gaze around them while chewing on a stick of honey that was working miracles in reducing the pounding headache he was experiencing right at this moment.
The street beneath their boots was narrow and muddy, the packed earth wet enough to suck at the soles with each step. The buildings that flanked the road were stone at the base and timber above, steep-roofed, short, and tightly clustered but sturdy. Chimneys smoked. Windows glowed. Laundry lines swayed between second-floor balconies in the breeze.
So, we're in some sort of medieval village, Deacon mused to himself as he analyzed his surroundings. And possibly one run by Half-dwarves, given the lack of mountain peaks towering above the town and how well-built and short the buildings are.
The sound of clucking pulled Deacon's attention to a nearby alley. Peering inside it showed that it had a couple of barrels and crates littered about, and a lone chicken hopping about and squawking like it owned the place.
Beyond it, Deacon was able to catch a look at what looked to be a town square, where colorful stalls were being magically erected and goods were being laid out by—
Deacon blinked.
Are those… puppies?
"Are those puppies?" Esmerelda asked aloud at the same time as Bonehead, both craning their necks to get a better view.
Before anyone could answer, a familiar chime echoed in their ears as a translucent blue screen materialized in front of all five of them.
Floor Nine – The Frontier:
You have reached the Frontier, an untamed expanse of rolling plains, bright red mesas, lush grasslands, and home to hundreds of ruins swallowed by nature and time. This land was once envied for its master artisans; smiths, tailors, enchanters, chefs, and alchemists of legend, whose crafts were sought by kings and empires. But the Frontier refused the world's greed. Its crafters rejected gold, titles, and thrones, choosing instead a life of quiet dedication, where only skill and creation held value.
Over the years, the riches of more civilized lands flowed elsewhere. Without gold, the Frontier Towns could no longer hire guards, build walls, or maintain their borders. Now, the wilderness presses inward into the territory of Frontier Town. However, despite this, the artisans continue their craft in humble workshops and towers, but each passing year, their borders shrink.
The Master Crafters refuse to abandon their chosen path. Though poor in coin, they remain unmatched in skill—able to forge relics that defy the imagination. For wanderers and adventurers, there is no better trade to be made.
The Frontier offers you this oath of exchange: hide for steel, fang for forge, blood for brilliance. Cull the threats that encroach upon their lands. In return, bring the marks of your greatest kills; scales, cores, claws, hides, horns, and hearts, to any one of the Master Crafters who reside in Frontier Town. They shall fashion for you a legendary tool, weapon, potion, wand, staff, accessory, or armor that will shape the destiny of your journey ahead.
Floor Completion Criteria:
▸ As a Hunter of the Frontier, cull and defeat a minimum of three camps belonging to the invading creatures.
▸ Collect a total of five marks from five different invading creatures and deliver your gathered materials to a Master Crafter in Frontier Town.
Time Remaining: — ∞ —
"Thank the System," they all muttered in unison after finishing the Quest prompt. No massive war. No multi-day siege that required Deacon to travel through sewers filled with shit that reached up to his shins.
Just an extermination and material collection quest that required no added thought.
"While destroying the camps, we can look around and see if this place would be good to set up a base," Jass whispered, keeping her voice low as the group slipped into the alley. Her strategic planning completely bypassed Deacon's ears as he trudged forward, one hand on his temple and the other dragging along the wall for balance. He narrowly missed stomping on the chicken's wing as it indignantly kicked up feathers and squawked at him.
He needed Bonehead to find that hangover potion.
Now.
Breaching into the Town Square, the Ravenlight Party slowed their pace. All around them, dozens of other cadets browsed stands and spoke animatedly with what appeared to be… puppies wearing professional outfits.
His previous assumption that the town was owned by half-dwarves that had puppies as pets was incorrect, and it was puppies that owned the town, and half-dwarves were never in the picture.
Looking around, Deacon was easily able to identify which puppy was which Master Crafter.
Blacksmith puppies wore dark leather aprons, little goggles strapped over their heads, and hammers on their belts as they stood behind displays of ingots and armor pieces gleaming on polished oak.
Alchemist puppies wore dark green robes with tiny satchels of herbs and crystal vials hanging from their sides. Their stands were covered in potions, glowing liquids, dried reagents, and simmering beakers.
Other stalls showcased enchanter puppies in blue mage caps, tailor puppies wearing measuring tape scarves, chef puppies with tiny white hats, each one matching their profession so perfectly that it almost felt staged.
"Here," Bonehead said, already fishing in his satchel as they approached the most eye-catching of them all, a golden-furred pug wearing an ornate white mantle and a towering hat shaped exactly like a pope's miter.
Bonehead slapped a clear blue potion into Deacon's hand.
Clarity Potion.
Deacon didn't hesitate for a second longer as he quickly uncorked the potion bottle and downed the entire thing in one gulp.
Relief hit him instantly as his thoughts snapped back into focus with the fog in his head beginning to clear up. The pounding hangover vanished, and a hiss of steam escaped from his ears, and a sour belch burned its way up his throat and out of his mouth.
"What the hell did you drink to get that messed up?" Bonehead asked as his smoke-like eyes looked at the amount of steam leaving Deacon's ears.
"…Not drink," Deacon grumbled, rubbing his forehead now that he could finally focus, thought back to the cause of his massive hangover. "Ate."
He remembered walking with Bjorn to collect the rewards while everyone else went to grab food and drinks for the party. He remembered receiving both his Solo and Group prizes, and Bjorn leading him into an empty smoking booth to make him eat the Apple of Iðunn on the spot. The first bite tasted like fine wine mixed with something far stronger, and by the time he finished it, clarity hit for all of a heartbeat before his senses went sideways and shapes started losing order and moving around, and colors began shifting every couple of seconds.
Through the blur, he remembered Bjorn's voice, warped and distant, like someone speaking through a dream.
"When we meet next… talk about being a Jötunn."
And after that? He was back in his room in the Golden Horseshoe.
Deacon pulled himself out of the memory as the five of them came to a stop in front of the golden-haired pug wearing holy vestments and a miter.
"Hello! Can I help you wanderers?" the pug asked, lifting his head to address them with a dignified little tilt.
Esmerelda immediately bit down on her lower lip, shoulders trembling as she tried, and barely managed to hold back the squeal building in her throat.
Ah, right. Esme loves dogs, Deacon remembered.
"Yes," Deacon said, stepping forward before she could embarrass them. "I am Deacon, leader of Ravenlight. We're here to ask for the locations of the camps belonging to the invading creatures, and anything you can tell us about them so we don't head in blind."
"Ah. Yes." The pug nodded slowly, his voice soft and formal. "I am called the Pope Pug. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Wanderer Deacon and members of Ravenlight."
As he dipped his head, the miter slid an inch to the left. He quickly adjusted it with a paw, which only made Esmerelda's eyes go wide with overflowing adoration. Bonehead had to grab her by the back of her hood and physically hold her in place before she lunged at the dog.
"From what other wanderers and adventurers have reported to us," Pope Pug continued, clearing his throat, "we have identified a number of the invading forces. Hags, Trolls, Goblins, Satyrs, Kobolds, Dryads, multiple varieties of Elementals, Phantoms… and numerous mutated beasts. However, there are still quite a lot more, and with every passing year, there have been documented sightings of various creatures within those races of being Elites."
"That's… quite a list of creatures," Deacon said, rubbing his chin as he absorbed the information.
And it's also a good thing that Bonehead made more of the Spectral Grease, Deacon and Jass thought at the same time.
"Yes, there are quite a many creatures attacking our Frontier Town," Pope Pug sighed, ears drooping for a moment before he forced a polite smile back onto his face. "As for the locations of their camps, they are everywhere. A short walk beyond our gates will lead you to seven within a 400-meter radius. There is no shortage of camps, unfortunately."
Jass nodded to herself in acknowledgement that there would be enough creatures to bring her level Class and Race to Level 14. Bonehead hummed at the understanding that he was about to get a lot of fresh ingredients for his alchemy. Sam crossed his arms, lost in thought about what item he might get when turning in the bodies of the creatures they kill. While Esmerelda continued silently losing her mind, desperately wanting to pet Pope Pug.
"However," Pope Pug added, the sigh fading as his tone brightened slightly, "their corpses yield valuable materials. In the hands of Master Crafters such as ourselves, they can become wondrous items. Armor with blessings, weapons with teeth, potions that shape flesh and mana alike. So perhaps there is a silver lining to their pestilence."
"Thank you for the information, Pope Pug," Deacon said with a small smile and a courteous dip of his head.
The group turned to leave. Bonehead dragged Esmerelda with one hand while she stared back over her shoulder at the pug, eyes glossy and unblinking in a way that was beginning to unnerve Pope Pug.
"Let's head out from the west side of the town," Deacon said to his Party. "It's a direction most people don't head in, which would allow us to reach the camps much easier and might even allow us to kill a couple of Elites."
"Agreed," Jass replied. "And from what I can remember from anatomy class, Elites are far more refined than their normal counterparts – which should mean that we should just be collecting Elite corpses to turn in for better items."
"They are," Bonehead said, agreeing with Jass, as he continued to pull Esmerelda along by her hood. "Alchemically, Elite materials are best to work with, right after Boss materials; so it would make sense that it would be the case for crafters that use similar materials."
"But, on that thought, it's best if we talk to the other Crafters and see what materials are good for what," Bonehead said, looking at one of the Master Alchemist dogs, and stopping. "There might be some creature materials that might not mix in well with each other, just like in normal alchemy."
Hearing the logic in Bonehead's words, the Ravenlight Party split up and went to various Master Crafters and sought their advice on which creatures to hunt and what items they could craft.