She then went on to explain that the beast had caused quite a bit of unrest over the past few weeks. News had spread about a monster preying on merchant caravans along the road leading to town. It remained hidden from sight, striking like a skilled thief, targeting caravans carrying meat.
The attacks weren't limited to ambushes. There were also reports of small fires ignited along the road's edge, as if the creature was marking its territory in its own way. The damage wasn't extensive, but it had impacted the local economy, forcing many merchants to take longer routes—raising travel costs and slowing down trade.
Despite all the destruction, there were no reported casualties. That aspect of the story intrigued many. How could a creature so fierce avoid killing? Was it toying with travelers for amusement, or was it merely playing a cruel game? That wasn't the only question on Ace's mind, but he hadn't had the time to search for an answer. What occupied his thoughts was the posted reward for eliminating the threat. It was decent—enough to cover some needs—but not substantial enough to attract veteran adventurers, those who only moved when heavy coin purses gleamed in front of them.
He then asked whether the beast was more dangerous than the Black Demon Rabbit. Seeing his calm, fearless expression, the receptionist blinked a few times before smiling gently and saying:
"It's less dangerous than the Black Demon Rabbit, and the reward is better!"
She said it with confident enthusiasm, as if trying to entice him, perhaps to make up for the previous mission that yielded him little. She fell silent afterward, maybe realizing she had shown too much excitement.
Ace needed only a moment to decide before raising his head and asking what part of the beast he should bring back as proof of completing the task. She told him the creature's eyes were required, and that the higher their quality, the higher the price he could receive.
Her last words caught him off guard, prompting him to ask what she meant. She explained that the guild sometimes purchased resources adventurers brought back from their missions, providing them with an extra income beyond the task's reward. These materials would then be refined and prepared for resale or use. After that explanation, her colleague whispered something to her. The receptionist pulled out a small pouch of coins and said:
"And this, Mr. Ace, is your due payment—380 silver coins. One hundred is the mission reward, and 280 is the value assessed for the quality of the Black Demon Rabbit's ears."
Her words flowed quietly, but their impact on Ace was striking. His expression changed instantly, as if the cold mask he usually wore to hide his emotions had been stripped away. The receptionist watched him with quiet surprise, noticing the spark that lit up in his brown eyes. To him, money wasn't just a number.
He reached for the pouch but didn't open it. He didn't need to. He could feel the weight of the silver coins inside. He never expected that a pair of ears from a small black rabbit—strange as it might seem—could be worth so much. He looked down at the pouch in his hand, realizing that value often didn't lie in the object itself, but in the journey taken to obtain it. The ears weren't special in shape or texture, but the demon rabbit they were taken from had been dangerous—perhaps even rare. The worth wasn't in the fur or skin, but in the blood spilled to possess them.
He placed the pouch in his pocket, then looked up at the receptionist and said softly:
"Thank you."
He then glanced at the mission request sheet and declared, his voice firm and resolute:
"I'll take this mission."
The receptionist nodded in understanding, then pulled out a sturdy leather ledger. She opened it and recorded his name and the mission number. The sound of her pen scratching against the paper felt like an official proclamation. The words she wrote carried a weight he had yet to grasp. While she was recording the details, Ace took the opportunity to ask another question that had been on his mind. Still gazing at the mission sheet, he said:
"Excuse me, miss. If I may ask—why don't the town's knights handle threats like this to protect the caravans? Isn't that part of their duty?"
At his question, she paused and let out a long sigh, as if she had heard it countless times before. There was no boredom in her exhale, but a mix of frustration and resignation to an unchangeable reality. She raised her eyes to meet his, and in her gaze was the experience of many years spent working in this place. She said:
"Knights, for the most part, are trained to deal with people—bandits and thieves. But monsters... that's a different matter. As long as they don't directly threaten city or village walls, they're left to the adventurers."
The answer wasn't entirely surprising, but it added another layer of understanding to the image forming in Ace's mind—an image of this world's system, of its unwritten laws and roles that could not be broken.
He recalled what the receptionist had told him earlier about the relationship between adventurers and the authorities—that adventurers usually didn't receive tasks directly from governing bodies unless in exceptional cases, and that authorities didn't interfere in the adventurers' specialized work. It was a delicate balance between two sides held together by unspoken agreements. Adventurers, who wandered in search of challenges, couldn't be bound by rigid rules that tethered them to one place. Their nomadic nature made them unreliable as permanent guardians of any region. Knights, on the other hand, operated within a clearly defined structure—they couldn't abandon their posts or take on missions beyond their jurisdiction. This dynamic, simple as it was, granted a certain level of stability to society in this distant world, where everyone knew their role.
Finally, the receptionist gave him detailed directions to the road in question. Before he left, he asked whether he needed to dispose of the corpse bag himself. She shook her head, indicating that she would take care of it. He thanked her, then turned and headed out.
After leaving the guild, he headed to the grandmother's small shop to reassure the young girl of his return and inform her of the nature of the task he intended to carry out. However, upon arrival, he realized the timing wasn't ideal. The place was bustling with activity—the voices of customers blending into a mixture of laughter and haggling, and the air was saturated with the scent of new fabric, a smell that radiated a gentle warmth reminiscent of home on a winter's night.
Emilia was moving gracefully among the customers, her enchanting smile ever-present on her face, though tinged with a hint of fatigue. Her hands were full of rolled fabrics, which she seemed to present like precious treasures. Her eyes sparkled with vitality, as if she were the very soul of the shop. Ace stood there by the window, silently observing, hesitant to intrude upon her lively world. He considered calling out to her, but seeing how immersed she was in her work, giving each customer her full attention, he decided to postpone the matter.
He then made his way directly toward the town gate, expecting to find the twin brothers stationed there as guards, or perhaps seated and absorbed in their books—books he had intended to ask about. Upon arrival, he found two unfamiliar men guarding the gate. Their clothing was stained with mud and dust, as if they had just returned from a grueling journey through rough terrain.
Their posture was noticeably relaxed, lacking any semblance of military discipline. The spears they carried were certainly meant for guards, but they held them more like burdens than tools of defense. There was something off about the situation; it seemed they hadn't chosen this task willingly—it had been unexpectedly imposed upon them. As Ace approached, he asked them about the twin brothers. The two men exchanged quick glances. They appeared to be bronze-ranked adventurers. They conferred silently before one of them, tightening the worn strap of his leather glove, replied:
"The Korlin brothers asked us for a favor—to guard the gate on their behalf for a while. Then they quickly left for an unknown destination."
His tone held a trace of irritation, as if he was on the verge of abandoning his post at any moment. The other adventurer scratched his chin thoughtfully and looked out toward the horizon before adding with a tone laced with suspicion:
"I've never seen them like that before. They were unusually excited. I don't know what's going on with them."
The words were ambiguous, but Ace didn't want to waste time with questions. He nodded a brief thanks and turned to leave, walking away and leaving behind a mystery he couldn't yet unravel.
He moved swiftly down the path, just as he had before. His steps were so quick they barely touched the ground. The map the clerk had given him was simple—just a line marking the route he needed to follow. Only thirty minutes of continuous running through open terrain had passed before he reached a road that cut through a small forest. The air there carried a distinct scent of light ash, as if a fire had recently blazed nearby.
He stopped walking, his senses on high alert. He closed his eyes, focusing his hearing and sense of smell in search of any unfamiliar sound or nearby scent. Soon, faint breathing noises reached his ears.
He opened his eyes, moving quietly without making a sound. After walking a short distance, he noticed some of the tree trunks were charred. They were definitely burned, yet still standing. It was as if the flames that consumed them were not ordinary fire, but something far more destructive and cruel.
He continued cautiously until he reached one of the blackened trunks. He extended his hand to touch it, and as his fingers brushed the surface, it crumbled into ash—almost as though it had been waiting for that single touch to collapse.
What also caught his attention, and puzzled him, was that the fire hadn't consumed all the trees. Many stood untouched among their scorched peers. That irregularity defied logic—fire typically engulfs everything in its path. Yet this fire had moved with purpose, almost as if it had chosen its targets.
Ace pressed forward toward the distant breaths, now accompanied by deep snoring. Before long, he reached a point where he could see the source of the sounds. He hid behind a nearby unburnt tree, peering ahead no more than twenty meters to a patch of blackened ground still glowing with embers. Lying atop it was a creature resembling a giant lizard. Its body was covered in hard, lustrous scales that reflected light in shimmering colors, glittering like gemstones.
Those scales were definitely different from the description he'd heard. Narrowing his eyes, Ace studied the scene. Two possibilities came to mind—either the creature could change the color of its scales depending on its mood—bright and radiant when calm, fiery orange when agitated—or there was more than one of these creatures in the area. But his finely tuned senses detected no other movement, making him lean toward the first theory.
Carefully, his hand slid to his waist where his military dagger rested. As he unsheathed it, the faint sound of blade against scabbard broke the stillness. It was soft, yes, but enough to shatter the silence.
Suddenly, the creature's eyes snapped open, reacting instantly to the faint noise. It sprang into the air with agility that defied its size, spinning midair, and once its feet touched the ground, it launched directly at Ace with lightning speed and precision.
At that moment, Ace recalled a similar scene he had faced days earlier. He remained calm as he saw the creature's wide-open jaws revealing rows of sharp teeth. But what truly startled him wasn't the fangs—it was the strange glow emerging from deep within the creature's throat. A blue light, like a suppressed flame, building up to release.