Once the real Rosaline donned her mantle as Hermit, Edgar seamlessly stepped into her shoes. The clay construct moved among the children with a demeanor so identical to the original that it was both bone-chilling and admirable.
The moment the real Rosaline—now the hooded Hermit—appeared, the children's eyes darted between her and Edgar, their faces lighting up. "Whoa! You really do know each other!"
Not all comments were welcome, however. "Unbelievable! Even the Instructor has actual friends!" one of them blurted out.
Clad in her grey hoodie, Rosaline (as Hermit) felt her fist clench. Only her practiced maturity kept her hand from delivering a swift knock to the brat's head.
"Enough. We head to the mine tonight," she said, arms crossed. "Rosaline, you stay with the boat. You'll join us tomorrow."
"Understood," Edgar replied succinctly.
"Hell yeah! Mining time!" Beethoven and the others cheered, racing to their cabins to gear up.
"Shall I prepare late-night snacks for your return?" the butler inquired. Edgar's eyes instantly shimmered with an uncharacteristic hunger.
"Make plenty," Rosaline (as Hermit) answered, noting inwardly that this was Edgar's only flaw—an obsession with sweets that bordered on a giveaway.
…
…
The Rockford Island mine sat on the northern coast, situated over the site of a defunct Dungeon that had been sealed five years prior.
Typically, five to ten years after a Dungeon's closure, they would manifest as mineral-rich caves or give rise to 'Anomalies'—spatial zones teeming with rare resources. These phenomena acted as magnets for researchers and tycoons alike, regardless of the catastrophes that had preceded them.
After a quick meal, the group reached the Healing Crystal Mine. Rosaline presented her Hunter identification: a matte alloy badge depicting a set of wings topped by three stars.
"Right this way, Miss Hermit. You and your team are permitted half a kilogram of ore each," the guard said, gesturing politely toward the illuminated cavern.
Rosaline gave a curt nod and led her team into the glow. As they ventured deeper into the unremarkable stone tunnels, she broke the silence.
"Tell me—why is reaching this specific mine so vital?"
Caleb, ever the student of data, answered promptly. "Healing Crystals usually drop from Boss-level De-vons, and even then, the drop rate is abysmal. The Hunter Association records show a staggering scarcity despite three centuries of war. Owning them... it means a fortune."
"Correct. This is the lifeblood of a Hunter's income," Rosaline glanced back over her shoulder. "No matter how much loot a De-von drops upon death, it can never compete with the sheer volume of a dedicated Jewel Dungeon. A single palm-sized crystal... in today's market? That's four to five hundred thousand Pure."
Behind her mask, Rosaline's eyes burned with greed. To these silver-spooned children, such a sum was pocket change; to her, it was a mountain of gold.
"And that's why we're training here this week," Beethoven added.
"Yes. A lesson you must learn to truly walk the path of a Hunter!" Rosaline pointed a finger upward, and the devotion in the children's eyes flared. Their faith in their 'Big Sis' mentor was reaching new heights.
"How deep must we go?" Medina asked.
"Floor 200," Rosaline replied. "Can you handle the trek?"
They nodded in unison. The path was mercifully straightforward. When they finally reached the designated floor, the group froze.
"Whoa...!"
Before them lay a garden of light. Pale green crystals sprouted from every surface—walls, floor, and ceiling—shimmering like soft emeralds. The air itself seemed filtered through a gentle, verdant luminescence.
"Welcome to the treasury," Rosaline said, stepping toward a promising vein. She raised her pickaxe. "Careful now. Keep the crystals intact."
Following her lead, the apprentices began to work. The crystals were relatively brittle, and soon, small piles of glowing ore sat beside each of them.
"So pretty," Medina whispered. "I wonder if I can make earrings out of these?"
"If I carve this into an animal shape, my parents will love it," Beethoven muttered to himself.
Caleb was trembling with academic fervor. "I've never had the chance to deconstruct the chemical properties of a Healing Crystal... Father is going to lose his mind."
"I wonder if eating it gives you a skill?" Jason mused. Before anyone could stop him, he glanced around and popped a shard into his mouth.
A system prompt flared to life before his eyes.
[You have acquired a new skill: Wound Coalescence (Passive)]
[This skill allows for mid-combat recovery as long as the body has the capacity to regenerate. It mitigates fatigue. Note: Does not apply to poison, cell-level damage, or wounds affecting the regeneration process directly.]
"Holy—! This is incredible!" Jason roared.
"What happened!?" Beethoven grabbed his friend's shoulder, panicked.
"Relax, buddy... I just got a new skill," Jason grinned, shoving him off. "Gave me a heart attack, though."
The others hesitated for only a second before following suit.
[You have acquired a new skill: Wound Coalescence (Passive)]
[You have acquired a new skill: Heal (Active)]
Medina and Caleb both gained 'Heal,' while Beethoven received 'Wound Coalescence.'
Going better than expected, Rosaline thought. The lesson is proceeding exactly as planned.
Bringing them here served two purposes: teaching them the economics of hunting and ensuring they gained vital survival skills. For a support like Caleb, 'Heal' was a necessity, not a luxury.
She may have despised Zenis's elitism, but she respected his mantra: Private gain must always align with public benefit.
By now, Zenis is likely being hailed as a hero by the lower ranks, while the Association seethes, Rosaline mused with a twinge of envy. She looked at a crystal in her own hand, tilted her mask slightly, and consumed a fragment.
She waited. Nothing. No prompt, no surge of power.
She had expected this. Despite the purity of the crystal, she remained a void. For reasons unknown, standard support skills like 'Shield' or 'Heal'—things that came naturally to others through awakening or consumption—were forever out of her reach.
She sighed, a small, wry smile hidden by her mask, and stood up to face the celebrating children.
"Time is limited. Pack your haul. We're leaving."
"Yes, Big sis Hermit!" they chirped, some even offering a mock salute.
…
…
They exited through a secondary tunnel managed by a man Rosaline knew all too well: 'Iron Tower,' Rocky Braveheart, Master of the Iron Fortress Guild.
He was a mountain of a man, his golden hair spiked with gel, wearing tea-tinted sunglasses even in the dim light. In his white tank top and work trousers, his scarred muscles looked like they belonged to a world-champion heavyweight. He was a 'Vanguard Tank'—a rare breed that combined indestructible skin with devastating offensive power.
"Hermit," He boomed, his scarred face breaking into a surprisingly gentle smile. He offered a massive hand. "Long time."
"It has been, Mr.Rocky," Rosaline said, using his real name.
"Everyone was shocked when you quit the guild. You went off the grid," Rocky said, glancing at the children behind her. "You should drop a message in the group chat once in a while. Let us know you're still breathing."
"I've been... busy," she replied evasively. "But I'll check in when I can."
Rosaline had cycled through many guilds—Rocky's Iron Fortress, Zenis's White Guardian, the Dawn Knights, Regen and Liese.
Rosaline had seen them all. She had learned that the life of a freelancer was the only one that didn't feel like a cage.
"The guild doors are always open for you," Rocky said, then gestured to the apprentices. "And these brats?"
"Apprentice Hunters," she replied.
Rocky's eyebrows shot up. "Hermit... are you finally starting your own guild?"
"No. I'm not built for leadership. I'm just... helping them realize a dream."
"We are the Demi-Dragons, sir!" Caleb blurted out, standing rigid before the living legend.
"You're intimidating them, Mr.Rocky," Rosaline warned. "You're scary enough without the 'Guild Master' glare."
Rocky let out a thunderous laugh. "My little star, it's just been a while since I saw eyes with that much spark. If this is your project, then you've outdone yourself again."
"They will become great Hunters," Rosaline said with a conviction that silenced the giant.
Rocky sighed, realizing he wouldn't be recruiting her back anytime soon. "I still miss having you. When you left, we lost one of our most vital supports."
"Your guild has plenty of talent, Mr.Rocky. Invest in them what you would have spent on me. It's a better trade."
"Always so serious," Rocky grunted, reaching out to ruffle her hair like a proud father before pulling back. "Hah... if my daughter were still alive, she'd be about your age."
"I'll message the group soon," Rosaline promised.
"Good! Then we drink! I'll set a date," Rocky said, weighing their crystals and bagging them professionally.
As they emerged from the cave, the sea air hit them. They had exited onto a secluded beach.
"Yes! The ocean! Can we go in!?" Medina begged.
"Go," Rosaline said simply.
The children dumped their precious crystals into her arms and sprinted into the moonlit surf. Rosaline watched them, a lone sentinel on the sand. Maybe even 'young masters' like them just need a taste of freedom every now and then.