The receptionist watched him with wide eyes; her eyebrows furrowed in obvious suspicion. She had seen countless adventurers fall apart at the mention of the Giant Ogre. Some backed out immediately, others swallowed hard, and some pretended to be brave until their expressions crumbled. But Ace was different. He looked as if he had just received good news—not a terrifying warning. That only deepened her doubts about him.
Faced with that, she let out a second, longer sigh. She tried to gather the right words before deciding to tell him the whole truth. Maybe then, he would realize how little he truly knew about the danger he was about to face.
"The Great Forest…" her voice was serious, holding a trace of caution. Then she continued:
"It's a place swarming with dangerous monsters of various sizes and strengths. But for decades, there have only been two creatures that no one is advised to face except with a gold-ranked adventuring team—the Giant Ogre and the Rotting Tree Beast, the monster responsible for problems that extend beyond the forest itself."
She paused, as if weighing her words, then continued in a quieter voice filled with dread:
"That monster affects even those who've never seen it."
Ace's eyes narrowed, confusion evident on his face, and he asked:
"What do you mean?"
She took a deep breath before replying:
"The Rotting Tree Beast emits toxic gases from its body. These gases cause illness when they reach the town during the seasonal wind shifts. The winds carry the toxins, triggering waves of sickness among the townspeople. The illnesses aren't fatal due to the light concentration of the gas, and thankfully, the season doesn't last long, so it's bearable. Usually, the winds blow the gases away toward the Green Death Plains behind the Great Forest. But inside the forest, it's different. There, even though the gas is invisible, you can feel it with every breath. The concentration is lethal. No one dares stay in the forest long, even with protective masks."
"Excuse me, but… what are the Green Death Plains?"
For the second time, his question focused on something she hadn't expected to pique his curiosity. Nevertheless, she explained:
"They're vast grassy plains stretching across what remains of the kingdom's lands. They're rich in resources, rare stones—everything an adventurer could dream of exploring. But the problem is that the gases from that monster make exploration impossible without facing deadly health risks. It's said that the green grass there is saturated with the forest's toxins, carried by the wind, glowing with a faint purple hue in the dark. Even with masks, only a small portion of the plains can be explored. The gas causes slow, weakening deterioration until death. That's why those areas are considered off-limits."
She paused, then added more quietly:
"Still, there's one benefit to those poisonous gases."
Ace raised an eyebrow with interest, awaiting clarification. She continued:
"That forest and those plains form an impenetrable natural barrier that separates this region from the Demon Kingdom."
That name caught his attention, but his expression remained calm as she went on:
"Though Shilda Town lies right on the border with the Demon Kingdom, we've never faced an attack from them or any other hostile force—thanks to those toxic gases that protect us in a way no army could."
Her words sparked both a question and an answer in Ace's mind. The question: why would adventurers want to eliminate a monster that provides such safety? The answer: it explained the sharp, pungent smell he had sensed since setting foot on this planet. That strange scent, thicker among the giant trees, wasn't just unfamiliar—it was the scent of poison.
With that realization, he became certain that the gases had no effect on him. He had spent time in the forest without falling ill, coughing, or suffocating. He couldn't explain it—it was another mystery to add to the growing list about his body.
Though the mention of a place called the Demon Kingdom intrigued him, he didn't want to stray too far from his focus. As he continued to silently watch the receptionist, she understood his final intent. She sighed for a third time, as if trying to delay the inevitable, but she knew her professional duty compelled her to answer.
At last, she looked him in the eyes and said in a hushed voice—careful not to let any money-hungry ears overhear:
"The bounty on that monster is 100,000 silver coins."
As soon as he heard the amount, his face betrayed unmistakable surprise. He ran a quick calculation in his mind, dividing the reward evenly among the members of the group. That would grant each of them roughly two hundred gold coins—a sum more than sufficient to serve as a comfortable ticket to the capital, where the chances of finding what he sought were far greater.
Still, he didn't allow himself to fall into the trap of naive optimism. Fair distribution was rare, and promises often disappeared into the shadows of greed and deceit. He knew well that what is said is one thing, and what one actually receives is another. Nevertheless, even if he ended up with just a quarter of that amount, it would still be enough to spur him into leaving as soon as possible.
Following that, and as the topic of money continued, the clerk informed him that the guild could not grant him the reward for completing the last request—the one concerning the Dragon Fire—explaining that in cases where the description of a request differs from the reality of the situation, the guild recruits a team of specialized adventurers to verify the facts. After that, the payment is calculated based on the revised assessment. In his case, she clarified that the revised reward for the camouflaged Dragon Fire beast amounted to 3,000 silver coins. Furthermore, when adding the estimated value of the eyes—still in excellent condition—the total dues would not fall short of 4,000 silver coins, payable as soon as possible.
After hearing that, although he knew he should have felt some relief over the unexpectedly large amount due to him, his estimation of what might be gained by joining that band played a role in tempering his expression.
After all that, he finally decided to leave. Before he did, he asked whether he needed to transport the beast's corpse elsewhere. She assured him there was no need, adding that she would arrange for other adventurers to take care of it once the cart arrived for transport.
At that, Ace thanked the clerk for all the information, especially for her genuine concern for him, then turned to leave—her eyes following his steps, reflecting a clear worry about what decision he would make come the following morning.
After leaving the guild, he took a moment to look over the burns that had once spread across his body, now fully healed. A heavy sigh escaped his lips, as if he wished they hadn't vanished… so soon. He then embarked on another round through the tool shops. Each store he visited bore its own signature: some resembled abandoned warehouses, their goods buried beneath thick layers of dust. Others looked more like chaotic laboratories, piled high with tangled heaps of mechanical parts.
In contrast, a few establishments were neatly organized, their tools displayed on carefully arranged shelves, radiating the shopkeepers' pride in their merchandise. He ran his fingers across a myriad of tools—both rusted and pristine—but found no wires, electronic components, or even the simplest display screens.
Everything before him was purely mechanical, relics of a bygone era when this civilization had come to a halt. Though some pieces piqued his curiosity, he felt no urge to ask how they worked or what purpose they served—he simply didn't have the time.
In the end, even after visiting the rest of the shops that specialized in bartering unusual items, he found nothing. This round of exploration merely continued his previous one, and with that, he had covered all possible places to search within the town. He left with nothing but a single intriguing rumor that seemed to be circulating among the locals.
He wandered into the bustle of the market, his steps hesitant and weary. At last, he felt the weight of exhaustion pressing down on his shoulders. He made his way to a quiet corner where a wooden bench sat near a small fountain. Sitting down, he leaned back against the cool wood and closed his eyes for a moment, surrendering to the fatigue that had seeped into his bones. When he opened them again, he found himself staring at a picturesque scene—one that had always been there, yet felt as though he was seeing it for the first time.
The market's motion resembled an endless dance. Faces of all kinds passed before him, each carrying a story, a burden, or an unfulfilled dream. One man strode with the confidence of someone who owned the world, while on the opposite side, a weary laborer dragged his heavy feet. Children darted between the passersby, their laughter floating like airborne bubbles. An elderly woman sat at the corner of her small shop, her eyes watching the street with a depth that spoke of memories and longing.
After a few moments of reflection, his thoughts returned to the journey ahead. He knew that reaching the capital wouldn't be a mere act of travel—it might involve unforeseen trials. A fleeting possibility crossed his mind: what if he were attacked by bandits or others with malicious intent? How would he defend himself if they possessed techniques or powers unfamiliar to him?
He remembered the drunken man he encountered earlier—despite his inebriation, he was frighteningly precise and strong. Ace knew for certain that if the blow he had taken had been delivered with a real sword, it would have sliced him in two. And had the man been in better condition, the challenge would have been even greater.
That thought sent a chill down his spine. It confirmed for him that gaining knowledge about strength and combat techniques was not a mere option—it was a necessity he couldn't overlook. Especially with the lingering feeling in his gut that the group who had invited him to join them wasn't one he could trust or let his guard down around.
The information he had received from the young Emilia was abundant but insufficient. It didn't paint a complete picture. He needed deeper insight—words from those who had fought in battles or dealt with those who did.
He briefly considered asking some adventurers, but quickly realized that doing so might raise suspicion. He wasn't ready to become a target of mistrust among them. Besides, he doubted they would be willing to divulge their secrets so easily.
Then a better idea struck him. If he wanted to gather information without arousing suspicion, weapon shops would be the ideal place. That's where warriors and adventurers naturally gathered, often in plain view of the blacksmiths—people who held deep knowledge of what each client required.
He stood up, determined to head to one of those shops. But just before he could take a step, a voice reached his ears from afar—a call laced with a tone so alluring it demanded attention.
He turned to look and saw a young woman standing in front of a small store. Her appearance was a striking blend of strength and femininity. She wore a practical outfit, clearly meant for blacksmithing, yet it carried a delicate flair, embodying a rare harmony between grace and grit. She had on thick gloves and held in her hand a flamboyant, gleaming sword nearly taller than she was. She was calling out energetically, not to promote the sword, but to advertise the shop behind her.
As he looked at her, another point crossed his mind. He glanced at his black dagger—a weapon suitable for close combat that relied on speed. It wouldn't be effective against large beasts. Its toxic capability alone wouldn't help much in cases involving creatures with tough hides, especially those with their own venomous abilities. The idea of acquiring a larger weapon began to seriously appeal to him, particularly since he was considering accepting the offer to leave.
With that, he walked toward the girl, who quickly noticed his approach. A bright smile lit up her face, revealing her eagerness for a potential customer. But that brightness faded for just a moment, replaced by a fleeting hint of disappointment when her eyes fell upon his iron adventurer's badge. Still, she quickly regained her friendly demeanor. Ace didn't need an explanation to understand the change in her expression. It wasn't hard to guess her thoughts—a customer with a reputable rank, a high-tier adventurer, could've given her small shop the exposure it needed, lifting it from obscurity to a sought-after destination. But a beginner like him wasn't likely to bring such benefits.