That morning, Ark Town was still shrouded in a thin, ethereal mist that clung to the cobblestone streets like a ghost of the night before. Inside their modest room at the inn, Eins stood before a small, tarnished mirror, meticulously straightening the collar of his adventurer's garb. He fastened his leather chest piece—scuffed and worn from years of field research—and tightened his utility belt, which jingled with the glass clink of various tonic vials and alchemical components. Finally, he adjusted his rectangular glasses; though they had been repaired, a faint, hair-thin scratch remained on the corner of the lens, a permanent souvenir of the Stormberg ruins.
Beside him, Lysara was already prepared. She wore the set of gray leather travel gear and the pristine white cloak Eins had bought for her days prior. She had become adept at tucking her magnificent horns beneath the deep hood, but her gaze remained as sharp as a predator's, tracking Eins's every movement with an intensity that bordered on overprotective.
"We have to head to the Guild now," Eins said, his voice tinged with a distinct note of anxiety. "The administration sent a formal warning. If I don't complete a sanctioned hunting mission within the week, my adventurer license will be revoked. I can't survive on the Porcelain rank forever by just submitting research papers. The Guild demands blood and trophies to prove worth."
Lysara narrowed her eyes, her brow furrowing in confusion. "Porcelain? Isn't that the material humans use for fragile tea vessels? Why would they label you with something so easily shattered?"
Eins let out a self-deprecating laugh. "Because Porcelain-rank adventurers are considered the most fragile of all, Lysara. We are seen as little more than herb-gatherers or pack mules for the real warriors. But today, I have to prove I can be more. I need to rank up to Copper, at the very least."
Lysara's hand went to the hilt of the hunting knife at her waist, her knuckles whitening. "I will help you. Anyone who dares call you fragile will have to answer to me. I will show them that the mind of a researcher is sharper than any blade."
Upon arriving at the Guild, the atmosphere was already thick with the smell of breakfast ale and the roar of morning boasts. Eins pushed through the crowd to the quest board and selected the most fundamental mission available: The culling of ten Kobolds and the collection of five Slime cores. It was the kind of task usually reserved for teenagers who had just learned to hold a wooden sword, but for Eins, it was a high-stakes bridge to professional survival.
As they turned to exit the Guild's massive oak doors, a tall, imposing shadow fell across their path, blocking the morning light.
"Off to hunt garden pests again, are we, Eins?"
Eins looked up, and his heart nearly skipped a beat. Standing before him was a man wearing a black round hat that partially obscured his salt-and-pepper hair. He wore casual adventurer's clothing that looked deceptively simple but was crafted from expensive, monster-hide silk. At his waist hung two mechanical crossbows of a design so advanced they looked like clockwork masterpieces.
"E-Elson?" Eins stammered, his posture instinctively straightening into one of deep respect.
This was Elson, a legendary Gold-rank adventurer whose name was whispered in hushed tones across Ark Town. He was a man Eins had idolized since childhood—the same man who had plucked a younger, clumsier Eins from the jaws of a forest predator years ago and taught him the basics of survival.
Elson's keen eyes shifted toward Lysara. For a moment, it felt as though his gaze could pierce right through the thick fabric of her hood. He offered a thin, knowing smile—the kind that held a thousand unspoken secrets. "So, you've found yourself a... very special partner, I see. An Ancient Beastfolk walking the earth in this era. Truly fascinating."
Eins broke into a cold sweat, while Lysara's body went rigid, her weight shifting into a low, defensive combat stance.
"Easy now," Elson laughed, raising his hands in a non-threatening gesture. "I'm not here to collect a bounty. In fact, I've decided to tag along on your mission today."
"What? But Elson, this is a Porcelain-rank cull!" Eins cried in bewilderment. "Why would a Gold-rank legend waste his afternoon on Kobolds?"
Elson adjusted the brim of his hat, his expression turning uncharacteristically pensive. "Let's just say I want to see if you've actually learned how to fight, or if you're still that same scrawny brat who can only run away while clutching a notebook to his chest."
Lysara hissed, her tail twitching beneath her cloak. "Watch your tongue, Hatted Man. Eins is far more capable than you realize. He has a strength you cannot see."
Eins placed a steadying hand on Lysara's arm. "It's alright, Lysara. Elson has always been... blunt. If he wants to watch, let him."
They reached the northern woods, a damp, sprawling forest known as a breeding ground for low-level threats. The air was thick with the scent of wet moss and the sharp, ammonia-like odor of Slime trails. From the thickets came the guttural, yapping barks of Kobolds.
"Alright then, show me your worth, Eins," Elson said, leaning casually against a massive oak tree as if he were settling in for a theater performance.
Eins did not immediately draw his blade. Instead, he reached into his pack and produced several coils of reinforced wire and strips of pungent, dried meat. With the methodical precision of a clockmaker, he set a series of tripwire snares between the roots of the trees, camouflaging them with dead leaves and placing the bait at the center of a killing zone.
Moments later, three Kobolds emerged from the brush, lured by the scent. The second their clawed feet hit the trigger zone, Eins yanked the primary line.
SRAK!
The Kobolds were instantly hoisted into the air, tangled in a weighted net. Before they could even yelp, Eins moved with a terrifyingly efficient speed. Drawing a small, surgical-grade knife, he lunged forward. Having studied the anatomy of nearly every creature in the region, he knew exactly where the carotid artery sat beneath their mangled fur. With three swift, clinical thrusts, the Kobolds went limp.
"Efficient. No wasted movement," Elson murmured, his eyes tracking Eins's technique.
Next, several Slimes began to pulsate toward them. Slimes were notoriously difficult for standard warriors because their amorphous bodies simply absorbed physical impact. Eins reached for a small bamboo blowgun. He took a deep breath, steadied his aim, and fired.
Puff!
The needle, coated in a concentrated salt-acid compound he had refined himself, struck the glowing core at the center of the Slime's gelatinous mass. The moment the core cracked, the Slime lost its structural integrity and dissolved into a puddle of harmless goo, leaving behind a perfectly intact crystal core.
"Incredible!" Lysara clapped her hands, her face beaming with an almost childlike pride. "Your movements are so calculated, Eins! You didn't waste a single drop of energy!"
Elson walked over, clapping his hands slowly in genuine approval. "The lessons I gave you weren't thrown into the trash after all. You know your physical limits, so you've turned your brain into a weapon. Not bad for a Porcelain-rank."
As Elson turned his back to them, a sudden, chilling wind swept through the clearing. From the impenetrable darkness of the deep woods, Leonika stepped into the light.
Eins and Lysara immediately drew their weapons, but they froze at the sight that followed. Leonika did not attack. Instead, the ancient Dragon-kin girl walked up to Elson and leaned her head against his shoulder with a startling, affectionate familiarity.
"You took far too long, Elson," Leonika whispered, her voice soft and melodic—a jarring contrast to the berserker who had nearly leveled the Stormberg temple.
"My apologies, Leo. I just wanted to say hello to my old student," Elson replied, reaching up to stroke Leonika's hair with a tenderness that spoke of decades of shared history.
Eins's jaw dropped. "Wait... so Leonika is... your partner?"
"She is more than a partner," Elson said, his gaze turning stone-cold serious as he looked at Eins. "Eins, you and I are two of a kind. We both carry a burden that the world isn't ready to understand. We both protect something precious from an age that humans have forgotten. I followed you today to see if you had the resolve to keep her safe."
Elson gripped Leonika's hand firmly. "The world is cruel to those who are different, and even crueler to those who love them. If you aren't strong enough—not just in body, but in conviction—you will lose her to the shadows. Keep growing, Eins. Protect what matters to you in your own way."
Without waiting for a response, Elson and Leonika turned away. They walked into the deep forest, hand in hand—a legendary human and an ancient "god," inseparable across the spans of time.
Eins stood still, letting Elson's words sink into his soul. He looked at his hands, still stained with the work of the hunt, then looked at Lysara standing faithfully by his side.
"Lysara," Eins said softly.
"Yes?"
Eins met her gray eyes with a newfound iron in his gaze. "I realize it now. I might never be a knight who can shatter mountains or a mage who can summon storms. But I promise you... I will use every ounce of my knowledge, every tactic I can devise, to guide you through this world. I won't let you be alone ever again."
Lysara smiled, a warmth radiating from her that seemed to brighten the dim forest. She looped her arm through his. "I know you will, Eins. Because you are the only human who saw me not as a monster or a legend, but as a friend."
Under the canopy of the northern woods, the spirit of a true adventurer was born. Their journey was no longer just a search for data—it was a battle for a future they would build together.
To be continued...