It was still morning.

Though noon had yet to arrive, the guild was already bustling with people. As lunchtime approached, the number of adventurers surged, seemingly doubling or tripling. Yet despite the crowd, their expressions were dark, as if a collective tragedy had befallen them.

"Any new missions today?"

Though everyone knew the answer, someone still asked. And many were eager to respond.

"Nope, not a damn thing. Don’t you know? After Behemoth showed up, the number of monsters has plummeted. Now all that's left are the dangerous missions."

The easy jobs were disappearing. Only the high-risk missions remained, and even among adventurers, there were specific people who took those on.

"Are things really that bad?"

"Haven't you heard? The kingdom’s cracking down hard. It’s like they want us adventurers dead."

The kingdom had become useless. In their quest to rebuild after Behemoth's attack, the royal city had wiped out nearly all the surrounding monsters. The adventurers, who had once eagerly accepted an influx of outsourcing from the city, now realized that they had slaughtered the golden goose.

"Maybe we should take on some unofficial work."

"You’d be better off signing up as a mercenary."

An adventurer grumbled. "Unofficial work" sounded grand, but it mostly involved shady tasks from nobles: guarding, tracking down missing persons, shadowing, smuggling, sabotage, and even assassination. Such jobs paid well but came with high risks.

Of course, they were illegal. And the chance of dirtying one’s hands was high, so most adventurers avoided them. But when push came to shove, an adventurer would drink muddy water—or worse—if it meant survival.

"They won’t take us as mercenaries unless we're skilled. What about us weaklings who’ve only ever picked herbs and killed small monsters? How are we supposed to survive?"

Another adventurer sighed deeply.

"We should just take a hunt. Are we really so cowardly and pride-less?"

"What courage? If we join a hunt, we’ll end up as nothing more than scavengers looking for crumbs. We’re just petty thieves at this point."

Naturally, the conversation shifted to the adventurers' poor treatment.

"Thieves... well, I suppose that’s the most fitting description," muttered an old adventurer, triggering a chorus of complaints as the others joined in. The guild hall's first floor echoed with the whining of grown men and women, most of whom had traded their age for muscle.

"Seriously, we could really use some jobs. But instead, the Tower’s getting all the support. They regulate dungeons, restrict artifact excavations, and even tighten the rules on unofficial work. We’re left with nothing but crumbs, chasing after the smallest of tasks. It’s either that or we go grave robbing."

Each adventurer had plenty to say, pounding their fists on the tables to emphasize their frustrations.

"Exactly! The country doesn’t care if we starve, and the guild’s leadership is doing nothing. How much money did they take to keep their mouths shut like that?"

"Should we just take a dangerous mission then?"

"I told you, if you value your life, stay out of it. Just a few days ago, I saw some newbie snatch a rank-one notice right off the board."

The adventurer pointed to the mission board, where a large notice had been torn off, leaving a gap in one corner.

"He hasn’t been back to the guild since. Poor kid. He was so young."

"What was the mission?"

The adventurer shrugged.

"Something about clearing out a pack of Banshees near a lakeside. Not just any Banshees, either—these ones were old. And there were several of them."

"What? A pack of Banshees? Not just one? That’s insane. You’d need a knight commander to lead that mission, at least. How does something like that even get posted?"

The adventurer clicked his tongue.

"And the idiot who took the job? Either he didn’t know what he was getting into or he was desperate. Maybe he had a mountain of debt."

More adventurers joined the conversation, exchanging information.

"Hey, are we talking about that kid in the hood? The young one?"

An older adventurer asked.

"Yeah, I only caught a glimpse of him—just his eyes—but he was definitely young. He didn’t have that rough look that most adventurers do. His face was smooth, not a trace of stubble."

"Interesting."

The older adventurer sighed, while the others looked at him curiously.

"What’s so strange?"

"Haven’t you heard the latest rumors circulating in the guild?"

These adventurers were no strangers to rumors. Survival often depended on being well-informed, so at the mention of "rumors," they searched their memories like librarians flipping through books.

"Rumors? The one that’s got all the adventurers talking lately is..."

"...The one about the nameless adventurer, right?"

The old adventurer nodded.

"Yeah, the one people say is a monster. They say he’s been showing up in the guild lately, wearing a pitch-black hood."

One of the adventurers scoffed.

"There are a hundred adventurers wearing hoods at any given time. What's so special about this one?"

Most adventurers dismissed such rumors as nothing more than fanciful tales, fragments of stories scattered around the guild until they merged into something resembling a coherent narrative.

"Apparently, this adventurer uses a two-handed sword."

"...That’s unusual."

Adventurers tended to favor lightweight gear, or they’d opt for something reliable: a sword in one hand and a shield in the other, or a bow. Clunky weapons like spears or longswords were cumbersome, making it difficult to move quickly or explore tight spaces like dungeons.

"So, he’s a dedicated hunter then."

The adventurers quickly came to a conclusion: this guy wasn’t just after treasure. He was a hero, hunting dangerous beasts and clearing out threats on his own.

"I’ve heard he’s completed quite a few hunts by himself. There are even rumors that he wiped out an entire monster nest alone."

Of course, to most adventurers, the idea of a "hero" was nothing more than a joke.

"He’ll end up dead or crippled like all those other hero wannabes."

"Didn’t they say he’s already missing a limb or two?"

"It would be strange if he wasn’t. Guys like that never come back in one piece."

Their banter devolved into laughter.

"You folks better hope he doesn’t hear you talking like that."

"Ah, we’re speaking quietly enough that he won’t notice."

Despite their bravado, the adventurer glanced around nervously, as if expecting the mysterious figure to overhear them.

"If you’re that scared, maybe don’t talk at all."

Chastised by the old adventurer, they sheepishly scratched the backs of their heads.

"I mean, if he’s really that strong, why would he care what people like us say?"

"Yeah, it’s not like that Banshee hunt will be over in a day or two anyway..."

They flailed their hands, trying to justify their earlier words.

"Well, save your excuses for when you get caught."

Clang.

Despite the noise, everyone in the guild heard the door creak open. Instantly, the guild’s bustling atmosphere fell silent.

"...Whoa."

Step.

A black hood.

It cast a shadow that perfectly obscured the figure’s face. At his waist hung a longsword, a weapon rarely seen among adventurers. Draped over his shoulder was a sack, its end stained with a dark, ominous liquid.

The adventurers, unable to swallow their own spit, were intimidated by the hooded figure’s aura.

The sound of his boots echoed off the floor as he strode to the counter. He dropped the sack to the ground, facing the guild employee who looked at him with a rigid expression. The adventurers held their breath, not wanting to miss a single word.

"...I’m here to confirm mission completion."

His voice was rough, hoarse. Too worn and faded to guess his age, the sound only deepened the adventurers' curiosity.

"Ah, y-yes!"

The employee responded stiffly.

"What mission did you—"

Without a word, the man reached into his coat and pulled out a folded piece of paper, placing it on the counter. The employee, unsettled by the adventurer’s curt behavior, furrowed their brow slightly.

"Let me check..."

With an almost audible scowl, the employee unfolded the paper, muttering as they did.

"...Banshee extermination."

Silence.

The employee looked up in disbelief, staring at the adventurer. In response, the man hoisted the sack onto the counter.

Thud!

The weight of it was undeniable. The employee hesitated, reaching out to untie the knot. The dark liquid staining the sack hinted at the horrors within, pushing their imagination in unpleasant directions.

"This is..."

Summoning courage, the employee yanked the knot loose.

Thud.

A head rolled onto the floor.

It was heavier than expected.

The employee stumbled back, shocked by the sight. The head belonged to a Banshee, its signature grayish skin unmistakable. There was no stench, only the chilling sight of the decapitated creature. The employee, still reeling, stared at it in disbelief.

"...He’s something else."

One of the adventurers muttered as the employee shakily retrieved the head, placing it back onto the counter.

"Five in total."

The employee’s voice trembled as they confirmed the count. The hooded adventurer didn’t react, showing neither pride nor satisfaction.

"Confirmed."

The man nodded, calmly placing the Banshee’s heads back into the sack and tying it up once more.

"Take the spoils to the guild's outdoor appraisal station."

Hoisting the sack over his shoulder, the adventurer left the guild the same way he had entered, his footsteps echoing in the silence he left behind.

The guild was as quiet as a pier after a storm. The adventurers who had been complaining earlier exchanged glances.

"Did you see that?"

The adventurers nodded.

"I guess guys like that really do exist."

Just as the guild was settling back into its usual murmur, someone raised their voice.

"Come on, let’s get moving! Grab your missions!"

"Of course, this guy’s always pushing us to work when nobody asked."

Grumbling, the adventurers reluctantly began moving again, searching for tasks.

"Hey, why are you standing there like an idiot?"

An adventurer nudged his companion, who had been staring at the entrance of the guild.

"Ah, yeah."

The adventurer finally responded, joining the others. But his gaze lingered on the door.

"...He seemed shorter than I thought."

"Who cares about his height? A guy that strong doesn’t need height to matter."

Another adventurer grabbed him by the collar, dragging him along.

"...Something’s off."

 

"Thank you for your hard work."

Having received a hefty bag of gold coins, the adventurer shrugged and turned to leave. From the clerk’s perspective, it was as if the adventurer had vanished into thin air.

The adventurer had made his way to the outskirts of the city in no time. Muttering to himself, he kicked at the ground, frustration evident in his every step.

"Damn it."

He couldn’t stop sighing as he wandered off the main road onto a smaller, overgrown path.

Crunch, crunch.

The sound of leaves and twigs being crushed underfoot broke the stillness of the shaded trail. Eventually, the adventurer slipped into the shadows of the trees.

He walked deeper into the forest, where the path disappeared entirely. The trees grew denser, as if they intended to trap him there forever, but the adventurer seemed unfazed, walking confidently through the thick underbrush.

After what felt like an eternity, the adventurer pushed through the bushes and emerged into a clearing where a spring bubbled from the ground. His eyes were drawn to the small cabin at the center of the clearing.

"Phew."

He reached up to his hood, pulling it off and shaking his head. Golden hair, tinged with green, spilled out from beneath the hood, shimmering as it caught the light. Between the strands of hair, pointed ears poked through—distinctly non-human.

"That damn apprentice."

A frown creased his otherwise flawless face. His silky, elf-like voice, which had been disguised back at the guild, was now filled with irritation.

"Just wait until all this is over."

His knuckles cracked as he clenched his fists.

"I’ll make sure you spend the rest of your life serving me, you wretched apprentice."

Maxim's mentor, the elf Naian, strode toward the cabin with determined steps.