Four months have passed, and I haven't stopped.
I've only been taking quests to clear dungeons.
Alone.
Although I try not to garner too much attention, that would send people my way.
I don't want to deal with that.
I'm also certain that the lady behind the counter just assumes that I'm in a party whenever I collect my rewards from the guild. To keep from anyone noticing, I simply just go in and out of the guild hall. Just selecting a quest and returning to collect my reward.
No time wasted, and eyes averted from me.
And finally, with all of my hard work, I broke into Adventurer Rank: Grade 2. I kept checking my adventurer card constantly, and the lady behind the counter was right. It changed as I was taking more and more quests.
Adventuring has exponentially increased my strength as well. With every monster that I kill, is an added corpse to my ring. Boosting my strength. I've collected an abundance as well.
I've also been training my mana, allowing me to cast even more spells than I had before. I just got a feel for it, since there wasn't a book that mentioned training mana, but I found it through the frequency of casting spells. Any spell that I cast counted towards training my mana. I found a way to benefit through this by just casting extremely weak spells over and over again.
Yes, it would drain me, but it's just like any muscle. The more you use it, the stronger it gets when it recovers.
Although I haven't heard anyone do something of the sort. It must have to do with catalysts. Since you need a catalyst every time you cast a spell, training your mana is something that you do through battle so as not to waste catalysts.
Through this constant training, I've also discovered something groundbreaking. Unlike the information that I've been fed by the books, I am able to use anything as a catalyst for any affinity. For some reason, I can cast all four elements using any catalyst I want, not just limited to the rule of using certain catalysts for certain elements. I have yet to find the reason why I am able to do so.
But I have made considerable progress these past few months.
Occasionally, I get asked if I want to join another's party to fill the numbers. To which I always respond by spitting on the idea.
I can't stand it.
Just constant betrayal and experience of being fed to the wolves by these people.
I can't count on anyone.
I can't trust anyone.
I can only rely on myself, and that's all I need.
It's a Wednesday evening, I've just come back from completing a quest that took all day, and I got hungry, so I ordered some food from the guild hall's food stall.
I grabbed my food and sat down at the tables in the middle of the hall.
This was the first time I spent this much time here, apart from when I first registered as an adventurer.
But straying from that thought, this food wasn't bad. I ordered some smoked fish with porridge as a side dish. It wasn't seasoned nor was it cooked by a professional chef, but it still didn't taste half-bad.
As I quietly eat, halfway through my meal, the heavy wooden doors of the guild hall groan open, their echo rolling through the vast chamber like a warning bell. A group of ten strides in with quiet authority—each step deliberate, each gaze sharp. Power radiates from them like heat from a forge, suffocating and unmistakable. My instincts sharpen, tension crawling up my spine. They're strong. Their presence is enough to keep me on my guard. I don't stop chewing, but my eyes never leave them.
Then, at the rear of the formation, my gaze settles on her.
She moves with the grace of someone accustomed to violence, yet untouched by it. Light brown waves, tousled and free, frame a sharp, observant face. Her blue eyes cut through the air like frozen steel. The dark blue tunic she wears sways gently with her stride, almost blending her into the shadows. Something about her feels... different. Dangerous, even.
I force myself to look away. But her image burns itself into my mind.
Wait...
Something about her was off.
I glance back to take another look at her, and I see why I felt that way.
Her ears pointy, but small, hinted at one thing.
She was an elf.
It was strange, I hadn't seen an elf that wasn't in chains in all the time that I'd been here. And hearing what other people say about the other races just supported my previous claims about humans truly disliked the other races.
The elven woman drifted silently through the bustling guild hall, weaving between tables, her presence understated but not unseen. The crowd parted for her in unconscious deference—or fear—though she seemed indifferent to the weight of their stares. She moved like moonlight on still water: calm, assured, untouchable.
Until a leg shot out.
There was a loud crack of contact followed by the jarring thud of her body hitting the floor. The entire hall went still, the suddenness of the act drawing every eye. A sickening silence followed, broken only by a coarse, mocking laugh.
The man responsible leaned back with grotesque pride. His frame was large, swollen with indulgence, a permanent sneer etched across his greasy face.
"Oops," he jeered, voice thick with malice. "Watch where you're going, elf."
The woman, still composed despite the fall, began to rise, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. But before she could stand, a boot met her ribs, shoving her back to the wooden floorboards. She hit hard, and a line of blood traced the corner of her mouth.
Then came the spit.
It landed with a wet smack on her cheek.
"I can't stand you elves," he growled, voice venomous. "Not even standing up for yourselves."
I take a look at the group that the elven woman came in with.
They were just standing there.
Watching.
The expressions on their face not even seeming to feel pity for their member.
Should I do something?
No.
I'm not some hero from a movie.
If I did anything now, it would just draw attention to me.
I could only watch from afar.
The elven woman bruised on the floor, ignored the man's remarks and wiped the spit on her face, as she got up.
The look on her face was neutral, as if she seemed unfazed.
The man turns around in his seat and devours the meal on his plate, having a laugh with the men who sat across from him.
The group makes their way to the bulletin board, with the elven woman following their trail.
They check out the grade 3 section.
Grade 3? I've only just taken little peeks at the quests that were grade 3, and they were all difficult quests that required a party. All of the quests of that caliber needed you to hunt some monster of absurd strength.
I'm a bit impressed, quite frankly.
I take a sip of water from my cup across from me.
A man with chestnut-brown hair, tousled and damp from travel, stepped forward from the newly arrived group. His armor, a burnished steel marred by the dull stains of dried blood and soot, clinked softly with each measured step. A sword sat undrawn on his waist.
He rips a paper off the bulletin board.
This guy was dressed like a knight.
And look at that armor.
Stuff like that doesn't come cheap in this world.
"How about this quest, everyone?"
He shows the group the quest on the paper.
"The risk is high, but the reward seems well worth it."
Everyone nods in agreement and gives their input on the matter.
But the elven woman is in the back, not saying a word.
The armored man didn't even show her the quest.
Does she even know what she's getting roped into?
How sad.
But, she's just being opened to reality.
People like that are the reason why I can't stand others.
The group takes their leave and walks out of the hall, the elven woman being the last one out.
I pity her.
I finish my meal and walk up to the bulletin to select my quest for tomorrow, scanning the grade 2 section.
This one looks good.
Job Request:
Travel to Mount Varethorn and harvest the hide of 20 direwolves.
Reward: 10 bronze coins
Recommended Party Count: 8 people
I grab the paper and head back to my inn, letting the night settle.
I set out early the next morning, going to the market to buy a Sylph.
It turns out that there were people who sold Sylphs. You just had to look in the right place.
However, it was more expensive than what that man sold me the first time I bought one. The average price of a Sylph was 5 bronze coins. Quite an amount, but it made sense.
I head just outside the gates of the town with my newly bought Sylph.
Focusing my mana into my hand, I scanned whether the Sylph had been tampered with or not.
After that incident, I couldn't risk it. I picked this trick up after weeks of prying my brain, searching for a solution.
Not sensing another's mana, the result came back normal, which meant that I could safely open the box.
A blinding light comes out and leads the way, with me trailing right behind it.
Mount Varethorn was farther than I had thought. It took an entire day until I was able to see it, but by the time I had arrived, night had fallen already.
I decided to set up camp at the base of the mountain and complete the quest tomorrow, resting my body for the fight the next day.
In the morning, I hike up the mountain before dawn, on the hunt for direwolves.
I close my eyes and envision various animals. An owl, with their amazing sense of hearing to be able to listen to the heartbeat of a mouse, a bald eagle with their incredible ability to spot their prey from up to 3 kilometers, and a wolf with their undeniable strength to track any scent.
Hollow Perception.
My senses heighten to incredible lengths, being able to distinguish every living organism that is on this mountain.
I feel them.
The direwolves.
They're in the caves, still lying dormant.
It'd be best to make this as swift as possible. I want to make it back to town by the time the sun goes down this time.
Brontyx.
A spell that far surpasses Veltrix, this takes it to the next level and allows me to travel at speeds faster than one can blink, and with strength that rivals a Skaldrith, which is said to have enough power to single-handedly bring down an entire mountain.
Coming across one while journeying towards a quest, I based its power on it.
In a flash, I appear before the direwolves and quickly take care of all of them while preserving their bodies as much as possible.
They didn't even have a chance to fight back.
I pity the creatures.
There were more than I thought. They numbered 37, to be precise.
Why were there so many huddled in this one cave?
I go over to each corpse and store it in my ring. Through much experimentation, I discovered that not only can I store things in my ring, but I can release them back out as well.
Almost like some sort of inventory from a video game.
I still have yet to find the limit, however. I've constantly been piling up corpse after corpse and storing them in the ring with no rejection.
After storing all of the direwolves' corpses, I hike back down the mountain, making my way down to the path that leads to town.
Thank God.
I've made good time to arrive back at Briarhelm by the time night falls.
Right on schedule.
The path led through a forest, which I followed.
A sudden realization hits me on the head.
Wait...
What goal am I even moving towards?
Will I just spend the rest of my days completing quests?
Will I...
Find a way back home?...
Do I even want to go back?
I look down at my hands, roughed up and faintly covered in blood from the direwolves earlier.
What am I even saying?
This world has been nothing but hell.
The minute I stepped foot into this place, I was torn from the inside out.
The person I've become is but a mere product of the suffering I've experienced by the devils of this world.
Suddenly, a scream ruptured from within the forest, startling a flock of birds.
With my Hollow Perception, I could feel an ominous presence in that direction.
That scream...
Someone's in danger.
Why should I even care?
It must be an adventurer who tried to bite more than they could chew.
You reap what you sow.
I continued on, but a ghost from the past tugged on me from behind, reminding me.
Their faces appeared in my mind. The bloodied, mangled bodies of Aengus and his family. The horror encaptured on his decapitated head that rolled on the floor.
I regret it.
Had I not made a statement, vowing to myself that something like that would never happen again?
I clench my fist, blood pouring down to the blades of grass, painting it red.
Brontyx.
With my Hollow Perception still activated, I make full haste in the direction of the scream, bulldozing anything that stands in my path.
Nobody's going to die...
I'm going to make sure of it...