After leaving, Ace headed back to the grandmother's small shop, where through the window he caught sight of Emilia finishing a sale. She handed a folded set of clothes in a small paper bag to a customer with a bright smile, bowing slightly as they left while offering words of thanks and encouraging a return visit.
As soon as the customer exited, Ace stepped in behind them. The young girl greeted him, initially mistaking him for another customer, but her joy increased the moment she realized it was him. He held the map drawn by the guild employee. Emilia took it from him and began listening carefully to the mission details. Her expression tightened slightly as she processed the information. Then, while looking at the map, she said:
"The distance isn't short. It will take you half a day on foot to reach the farm, maybe longer if the terrain is rough."
Despite the warning, her tone lacked objection. After a moment of silence, she suggested:
"Hiring a cart would be less tiring." She paused, placing her hand thoughtfully on her chin as she weighed the options. "But renting a cart might be expensive. You could end up paying half the reward—or more."
Her reaction, and everything she said, was the opposite of what he expected. For someone who only accepted worthwhile deals, she didn't seem bothered by the small reward, which hardly justified the effort. Surprised and half-joking, he asked:
"I thought you'd refuse to give me the mission because the reward's too small."
That snapped Emilia out of her contemplation. She looked up at him with a faintly sad smile and said:
"Honestly, I probably would have. There are plenty of better missions than this one. But I know the old couple. I've seen them several times. They come to town now and then to sell their crops at the market. Their produce is always fresh and fairly priced. I've bought from them many times. I'm certain they're the same ones who posted the request—they're the only ones with a farm east of town, as far as I know."
She fell silent briefly, then added:
"It's unfortunate they're going through this. I can't really complain about the low pay. And to be honest, I truly hope you can help them if you're able."
Her expression softened into a pleading look. She even offered to cover the cost of the cart herself. But Ace, smiling confidently, waved it off and replied:
"No need. I'll go on foot. I may be back tonight or tomorrow morning."
Although she wasn't thrilled about how long it would take for his first mission, she couldn't argue with the confidence in his eyes. She sighed, urging him to be careful, all while feeling a growing admiration. She sensed that feeling she'd had since they first met—that he was different. Someone who'd put in effort not for money, but out of a sincere desire to help others.
Before leaving, he went upstairs. She found this odd, but he soon came back down carrying a very small bag strapped to his lower back. He asked for her leave and stepped outside, leaving her behind whispering a prayer for his safe return.
Upon leaving, he went straight to the town gate, where he saw the twin brothers seated, deeply engrossed in their heavy books. Their eyes scanned the pages with such focus that their features appeared tense and drawn. But the moment they looked up and saw him approaching, everything changed. Broad smiles spread across their faces, and their expressions relaxed as if they were greeting an old friend. One of them waved excitedly and called out:
"Oh! It's our traveling brother!" The other chuckled and added warmly:
"How are you, brother?"
Their welcome was unexpectedly warm. As he drew closer, their delight grew even more when they noticed his outfit and the adventurer's pendant around his neck. One of them raised his eyebrows in surprise and exclaimed:
"What's this, brother? You've become an adventurer? And here I was wondering how you were doing in town!"
His tone was a blend of astonishment and admiration, as though seeing someone he knew become an adventurer was something worthy of respect. The other quickly chimed in:
"Being an adventurer is great, but housing is always the issue. You'll need to rent a place at a reasonable price. If you need help, we can point you to some affordable spots."
Ace felt a warmth in their words—it was clear they held adventurers in high regard. He hesitated to tell them the full truth. He didn't want to reveal that he was living with the young girl. That fact seemed odd and inappropriate to mention and might lead to a long conversation he wasn't ready for. So, he chose silence—the wisest refuge—offering a modest smile as he replied:
"Thank you both for wanting to help. I've already found a place to stay, and I'm heading out now on my first mission."
The conversation quickly shifted to the mission details. Ace tried to glean any useful information from the guards, whose eyes sparkled with interest as they listened, weighing his words with experience. When he finished, one leaned his head slightly as if evaluating the matter from another angle, then said warningly:
"Don't underestimate those rabbits, brother. They may seem easy to kill when alone, but they become a real problem when they swarm you."
The other added more sharply, as if his words carried the weight of personal experience:
"Exactly! If you want my advice, keep moving at all times. Don't let them surround you and take control of the situation."
Their advice came from experience, not just casual warning. Ace thanked them sincerely, then left the town, while the two guards watched him until his figure faded into the horizon.
Once he was far enough, he stopped briefly, glanced around to ensure no one was watching, then bent his knee slightly and shot forward like an arrow. His feet barely touched the ground as he focused at high speed.
With every step, his thoughts tangled and surged unstoppably. Deep down, he didn't deny that his desire to help the elderly couple was genuine. But it also served as a thin veil covering a deeper truth—this mission, at its core, was a test. A way to gauge the difficulty level of iron-rank missions and determine whether he was ready to take on higher-tier tasks that would bring in money faster.
As he ran, fragments of old memories returned—of days spent working with the laboring class, those humble farmers and workers he'd known in his childhood. A wave of nostalgia washed over him.
Two hours passed in near-continuous running, broken only by brief rests. The farm appeared on the horizon. He could have closed the distance faster, but the intensified gravity limited his physical potential.
The rural path between the town and the farm twisted and turned, flanked by wild grass. For an average person, the journey would take half a day on foot, but Ace covered it in just a few hours. What impressed him most during the run were the small details that matched the map exactly—as if the guild employee had drawn it from a vivid memory.
Upon reaching the farm, he saw it standing alone in the open, enclosed by a fence of intertwined branches—a modest attempt to keep small wild animals out. The fence looked fragile, as if a strong wind could tear it away, yet it stood firm, much like the elderly couple living there, struggling to keep their land thriving.
Ace walked toward a small wooden gate that creaked faintly as the wind pushed it open and shut. Once through, he found himself in a wide yard filled with neatly arranged plants whose leaves trembled gently in the breeze.
The path led to an old wooden house. Its dark, cracked walls leaned slightly to one side, yet it stood stubbornly, refusing to become part of the past.
Silence dominated the scene, save for the whispers of wind through the branches. Near the house, a vibrant garden bloomed with the scent of flowers, butterflies fluttering from blossom to blossom, their wings glowing in the light. The sight, humble as it was, reflected years of care and patience—each plant a story of perseverance.
He knocked on the door several times but got no response. After a short wait, eyes scanning for any sign of life, he decided to walk around the back. There, he stumbled upon a scene straight out of a pastoral painting.
Amid a grove of trees, a man and woman worked in harmony despite the marks of age carved into them. Their movements showed no weakness, only the resilience of lives spent battling the land. The man wore a tattered straw hat; his dirty clothes stained with mud and streaks of grass—like a map of toil etched into fabric.
With timeworn hands, he expertly picked ripe produce, leaving the unready ones untouched. Beside him, his wife in a simple dress radiated gentle warmth, collecting the fruits he harvested and placing them into a nearby basket.
Ace stood nearby unnoticed, observing in silence. A gentle warmth crept into his soul—a feeling of respect and admiration. The scene brought back memories of childhood, running through fields helping elders and absorbing life lessons not taught in books.
After a moment, he took a deep breath and stepped forward, careful not to disturb the natural harmony between people and nature. When he was close enough to be seen, he bowed respectfully and offered a warm smile, saying:
"Good morning, sir, ma'am. I hope I'm not disturbing your blessed work."
The old man descended from a ladder, his eyes—more familiar with soil than with people—met the young man's. They widened in surprise. Strangers rarely visited this quiet corner. But soon, their expressions softened into kind smiles.
"Welcome, son," the old man said in a rough voice shaped by the years, as if his words passed through his heart before reaching his lips. He didn't need to look deeply to see the spark in the youth's eyes, the kind that hinted at hidden depths. Ace placed a hand over his chest and said in a steady voice:
"My name is Ace Farland, a novice adventurer. I've come about the mission concerning the demonic rabbits threatening your farm."
At those words and the sight of the metal guild badge near his chest, the old man's face changed. For a moment, his wrinkles shifted with unease. Though he tried to smile calmly, Ace caught a glimpse of the worry in his eyes.
The old man expressed his gratitude that an adventurer had accepted their request. He praised Ace's effort in making the journey from town and, with generous hospitality, gestured to a modest wooden table in the backyard garden, inviting Ace to sit.
The two sat around the old table. Despite its age, it was clean and reflected the simple essence of a peaceful life—one that needed little to be fulfilling. While they sat, the old woman went inside, leaving behind a faint trace of herbal scent. Ace then asked the old man to explain what had happened. The man sighed, as if carrying the weight of the world, and began in a weary, husky voice filled with years of hardship:
"These past days have been hard, son. Very hard." He paused, then continued with a voice heavy with loss: "We've lost part of our crops and some animals. Every night, we hear noises from the barns—cries of frightened creatures—and strange sounds among the plants. I investigated, looking for the cause, but found nothing... just destroyed crops and missing animals, some dead, their bodies covered in wounds."
He paused, staring at his clasped hands on the table, as if they held the memory of examining those bloody corpses. His fingers trembled, and he clenched them, trying to hold onto something slipping away. Then he resumed:
"At first, we thought they were just stray animals. We reinforced the fences and barns, locked everything tighter—but it didn't help."
He lifted his eyes to meet Ace's. His blue gaze was like a dark abyss, holding something that couldn't be expressed in simple words. He said quietly:
"But son, we eventually discovered what was causing all this. As the attacks continued, we finally caught sight of the culprits. Rabbits, son. But not like any we've ever seen. They were fierce and monstrous. When we saw them, we could do nothing but run. The best we could do afterward was submit a request to the Adventurers' Guild. And you, son, are the first adventurer to answer it and come here."
After that, silence fell—a silence revealing the old man's feelings, ones he perhaps didn't want to show, except to the person coming to handle the mission. Then, the door opened, and the old woman returned with a wooden tray aged by time. Steam rose from a teapot, scenting the air with a soothing herbal aroma. It fills the air with a herbal fragrance that has a magical touch of comfort and tranquility.
Three ceramic cups were carefully placed beside small plates, adorned with pieces of fresh cake—as if silently inviting hospitality. The tray was set on the table. Then, she lifted her head and looked at the young man with a smile. It wasn't merely polite—it was more like a warm embrace offered without words.
Her gaze held the tenderness of grandmothers who don't need to know someone to make them feel at home. Ace returned the smile, one that reflected sincere appreciation, and said in a gentle voice:
"Thank you, ma'am, for your generosity. Please don't trouble yourselves on my behalf."
The elderly couple chuckled softly, a laugh that seemed to echo a long life of harmony and affection shared between them. The grandmother placed her hand gently to the side of her mouth and commented, shaking her other hand:
"What a polite young man! We're very happy to have you here, son. It's rare for us to receive guests in such a remote place."
She said this as she began pouring tea into the cups. It had a deep green color and a distinct herbal aroma. She handed him a cup, which Ace accepted cautiously, his eyes observing the warm liquid inside. He lifted the cup to his lips and took his first sip. The moment the hot drink touched his tongue; he felt a comforting warmth spread through his body—a strange blend of sweetness and bitterness. He smiled in wonder, eyes sparkling, and said in a tone far from his usual calm demeanor as he looked toward the grandmother:
"Delicious! This tea is truly wonderful!"
His words were not merely flattery but a genuine expression of a feeling that had reached deep within. The elderly couple responded with wide smiles, exchanging a glance filled with pride—as though they had received an award for their efforts in cultivating and caring for the leaves used to make the tea.
Once the grandmother sat down, the old man stared silently into his tea. He gazed at it as if it were a mirror reflecting the ruin that had afflicted his land. The tea was still, its surface warm, but to him, it was more than just a drink—it was a window into dark nights. Then his voice returned to continue the conversation:
"To continue what we were saying, son, it's true that the reward we offered for completing the task is quite small, and I'm ashamed to admit it, but… we simply don't have the means to offer a reward worthy of the risk. We've suffered many losses, and all we have left are a few silver coins—barely enough to keep the farm running."
His hands trembled as he spoke—not from fear, but from shame. But his tone soon changed, trying to make the situation feel fairer. He offered a faint but sincere smile and said:
"But! If you'd like, son, you can take whatever you wish from our fields as compensation for the small reward. That's the least we can offer. We won't hold anything back. All we want is our safety, the safety of this farm, and, of course, your safety as well."
His voice overflowed with honesty. Although Ace didn't show much emotion on his face, there was a quiet understanding in his demeanor. After all, he wasn't just another adventurer seeking profit from tasks—he was someone who could feel and respect the weight of this old couple's hardship. He took a deep breath, lifted his head, and said in a voice filled with resolve and sincere intent:
"Don't worry, sir. Money isn't my goal, and I don't want anything extra from you. This is my first mission, and I want to prove myself. I promise I'll do everything I can to eliminate the threat endangering your blessed farm."
Upon hearing this, the elderly couple's faces lit up with gratitude and hope—as if the young man's presence, despite being at the beginning of his journey, had brought a glimmer of light to their days of despair. For a moment, it seemed as though the old man's shoulders relaxed slightly, as if a burden had eased.
After that, Ace asked the man to show him the places the creatures had damaged. They both stood up. Ace bowed politely to the grandmother before leaving, showing her the respect, she deserved, and a smile of admiration spread across her face. They walked among the crops—plants bearing fruits and vegetables close to the ground. There, they found signs of destruction: overturned soil, broken branches, and fruits that, although rotting, clearly showed bite marks from small mouths.
They then headed toward the barns. But before they arrived, Ace heard a sound among the plants. He extended his hand in front of the old man, stopping him, while his eyes scanned the branches, trying to locate the source of the noise. The old man gently patted his shoulder and said in a reassuring voice:
"There's nothing to worry about, son."
After saying this, he moved toward the sound, with Ace following cautiously. The old man pushed aside some branches, and what they saw a few meters ahead was entirely unexpected. Before them stood a small child—no more than seven years old. His hair was long and blonde, trailing behind him like threads of gold spun by light itself. His skin was pale, though smudged with dirt, and his blue eyes shimmered with childhood innocence, carrying an unmistakable purity despite the fatigue they revealed.
The child wore a small straw hat, just like the old man's, but newer—seemingly made for him recently. In his tiny hands, he held a small sickle, carefully harvesting fruit and placing it into a straw basket. Every movement reflected dedication and sincerity. From time to time, he paused to wipe the sweat from his brow before resuming work, seemingly tireless.
The old man approached him calmly, and when the child noticed him, a pure smile spread across his face—like a flawless morning light. It was a smile filled with innocent love, free from pretense, giving him strength as though it could wipe away the fatigue of the past hours.
The child walked joyfully toward the old man, who knelt to be at the child's level and asked warmly, as if speaking to his own son:
"How's everything going, my boy?"
The child held up one of the fruits he had picked, wiped it with his sleeve to make it shine, then began speaking with childlike excitement and pride, detailing his work in the field as though his words were a reward in themselves.
The old man listened patiently, then patted the child's head lovingly, making the boy's face glow even brighter. But the moment didn't last long. When the child noticed the approaching stranger, the light in his eyes faded. The warmth of innocence withdrew, replaced by the caution of a child unfamiliar with outsiders. His expression changed, eyes widened, lips quivered, and he stepped back, seeking safety.
He looked at the young man approaching and instinctively hid behind the old man, clutching his robe with trembling hands—as if that piece of fabric could shield him from the world. The old man smiled and gently patted the child's head, then spoke in a calm, reassuring tone:
"Don't be afraid, son. This young man is here to help us. He's an adventurer, and he's going to rid us of those wicked creatures."
Upon hearing this, the child's tension eased slightly. He looked up at the old man with questioning eyes, his young mind trying to absorb the words. A faint glimmer of hope appeared on his face—but it dimmed again as the young man drew closer.
Ace knelt to the child's level, trying to seem less intimidating. He greeted him kindly; his eyes filled with genuine warmth and goodwill. Though the child sensed this, he couldn't yet shake his hesitation. He remained clinging to the old man, who said:
"Forgive the boy, son. He's very shy with strangers." Then, as though recalling something that might make the child proud, he added enthusiastically:
"Oh, right! Did you know—he's the one who drew the picture of the wild rabbit on the poster! He's very talented at drawing!"
Upon hearing this, Ace showed clear admiration and said in a soft voice filled with sincere praise:
"Really? That drawing was exceptional. It caught my eye—and it's the reason I took the job."
The child blushed, then peeked out from behind the old man, his cheeks reddened with shyness. It was obvious that the young man's words stirred a feeling he wasn't used to—praise from a stranger. Finally, his voice came out—a hesitant, shy whisper:
"R–really?"
Ace nodded in confirmation. The boy remained torn between the urge to hide and the desire to be proud. The old man then asked him to return home, but the child, with a sudden determination not seen before, insisted on continuing his work. The old man relented and said:
"Alright. But make sure to return home by sunset."
The child nodded happily and returned to picking fruit. Meanwhile, the man and Ace headed toward the barns, the boy watching Ace's back from afar, his eyes filled with curious wonder. He felt something unfamiliar stir within him—a feeling he had never experienced when meeting a stranger. There was something different about the young man, as if a hidden thread of fate connected them. He couldn't explain it, but his curiosity had been sparked. Still, he pushed those thoughts aside and returned to his work.
As they walked, Ace asked the old man:
"Isn't it dangerous to leave the boy alone, considering the farm's current situation?"
"Nova is stubborn. He doesn't give up easily when we ask him to stop working. So, we assign him simple tasks—watering plants, picking fruit—work that demands patience more than strength. Even so, he always tries to do more. As for leaving him alone, don't worry, son. Those wicked creatures don't appear until late at night. But even so, we never go out after sunset."
When the old man finished speaking, they stood before the barns—a large building housing various animals whose sounds blended together. As soon as they entered, Ace was struck by a familiar mix of smells—animals, damp feed, and dried blood.
The barn was spacious but bore the marks of time: cracked wooden walls, a pitted floor. Despite ongoing care, it seemed locked in a quiet battle against decay. Seeing the animals brought Ace a sense of comfort. Chickens, cows, goats—they weren't unusual, save for the colors of their feathers or fur. He approached a cow resting in a corner, her large eyes calm but weary, as though she had seen many anxious days. He slowly raised his hand to touch her head, but she didn't move. She only stared at him, as if weighing his presence—trying to understand whether he was a threat or simply… a visitor. He didn't touch her. He let her be.
Looking around, Ace noticed signs of makeshift repairs—cracked wood held together by mismatched nails, some crooked, as if hammered in by trembling hands. He could imagine who had done the work—perhaps the old man, worn by years, spending his days fixing what the creatures had damaged. Or maybe it was the boy, trying to leave his mark, to contribute something meaningful, even if small.
Near one of the walls, Ace noticed deep scratches—as if savage claws had gouged the wood mercilessly. Jagged, sharp lines carved through the panels. Dirt was scattered chaotically across the floor, a sign that the animals had panicked and fled in terror. Their quiet noises held an undertone of fear, a primal caution. The cows' moos were broken, and the chickens huddled in the corners of their cages, watching from the shadows.
Afterward, they exited the barn and headed to the back of the property, where the old man explained that the creatures came from that direction. Upon exiting through the wooden gate in the rear fence, Ace saw a field of grass stretching ahead. He soon noticed dark patches scattered across the ground. He bent down to examine them and immediately realized they were dried blood—intertwined with the grass and soil, remnants of a battle unseen.
Nearby, there were clear drag marks—long lines in the grass leading to a dense patch of tall weeds, forming a curtain that concealed what lay beyond.
After gathering all those details, Ace turned to the old man and told him that he would take another round of the area, motioning for him to feel free to leave. The man nodded gratefully and began to walk away. Ace then took one final look at the distant tall grasses, observing them for a few moments before heading off to search for any additional clues that might help him discern the true number of those creatures—their movement patterns, the sharpness of their claws and fangs, and most importantly… whether they had a hidden way into the farm, other than simply leaping over the low-height fence.