In a quiet town on the outskirts of the Kingdom of Agar lived a boy whose name was known throughout the land. People spoke it in whispers, filled with wonder and sometimes with fear or respect.
Titles followed him closely. People called him The Wyvern Slayer, The Young Adventurer, and The Crimson Flare. But in the taverns, the guildhalls, and even in the King's court, one name stood out above all others.
Gun of the Crimson.
That name belonged to Gunther Duncan of the Crimson Phoenix Guild.
In the town of Aros, he walked the cobblestone streets like any other day, though he was anything but ordinary. Heads turned as he passed. Vendors rushed from their stalls, offering him potions, meals, charms, and even their daughters' hands.
"Oh, Sir Gunther! Back from another quest, are we?" called a cheerful baker, with flour still on his sleeves.
"Yep," Gunther replied with a crooked grin. "Just got back."
He was young—only sixteen—but already moved with the confidence of a man much older. His chestnut brown hair was messy, blown about by the wind. His amber eyes sparkled with mischief, but if you looked closely, you would see something deeper—a hint of pain he never discussed.
His worn crimson cloak fluttered in the wind. Mud caked his boots, dried blood stained the edge of his leather armor, and claw marks decorated his chest plate like trophies. He carried a short sword at his side, and beneath his tunic, he felt the weight of a pendant shaped like a blade.
He approached the shabby guildhall of the Crimson Phoenix—the smallest, poorest, and most mocked guild in the entire realm.
Yet, it was home.
The heavy doors creaked open. As soon as he stepped inside, a burst of celebration filled the air.
"Gunther's back!"
But the cheers quickly faded when everyone focused on the man next to the guildmaster. He wore a silver and blue robe and held a scroll sealed with the royal insignia in his gloved hand.
The guildmaster, a small old man with a voice like a cracked bell and a permanent smirk, lifted his teacup.
"Ah, finally returned, have you?" he said in his squeaky voice. "The King has sent you something special this time."
Gunther blinked, looking at the herald.
"A quest?" he asked.
The guildmaster's grin widened. "More like an invitation. To something... bigger."
In that moment, as the wind howled outside and the pendant beneath his shirt pulsed gently with warmth, Gunther knew.
This wasn't just another mission.
This was the start of something much greater.
The quest of a lifetime.