The autumn days had now approaching. The day had finally come. It's Danir's first quest as an official adventurer.
Morning light slipped gently through the small wooden window of his inn room, painting soft golden lines across the floor.
Outside, he could faintly hear the distant sounds of Blossomdale waking up—vendors arranging their stalls, carriage wheels rolling over stone streets, the subtle rustling of cherry blossom leaves in the breeze.
Danir's eyes slowly opened.
For a moment, he simply lay there, staring at the ceiling as reality settled in.
"This was it. A real quest huh?" He thought.
He pushed himself up and sat on the edge of his bed, elbows resting on his knees.
His heart was beating faster than usual—not from fear, but from anticipation.
His lips curved slightly.
Then his expression shifted.
"Oh…" He blinked. "I was so excited yesterday that I forgot to check it."
He straightened his posture and took a steady breath.
His grimoire.
The book that carried his magic.
His growth.
His path.
Raising his hand slightly, and spoke clearly—"GRIMOIRE OPEN."
The air in front of him shimmered faintly, reacting to his command.
Grimoire's 1st page:
Danir Granger — Level 25+10=35 BladeMagus:
BP: 6,275+1000=7,275
MP: 2,000+1000=3,000
STR: 5,779+500=6,279
SPD: 5,777+500=6,277
END: 5,775+500=6,275
INT: 1,205+500=1,705
Grimoire's 2nd page: Ice Shards Daggers.
Grimoire's 3rd page: Water-Cannon & Fever-Moist
Grimoire's 4th page and the rest: (Still empty)
"So… this was my progress after killing the tournament's prize—the Chained Chimera," he murmured inwardly.
He frowned slightly. "But why didn't I acquire any magic from it?"
His eyes narrowed as he thought back to what he had studied. "A chimera is a hybrid, fire-breathing magic-beast… a two-headed creature with a lion's head and a goat's head… and a venomous serpent for a tail. A creature born of multiple attributes. A creature rich in magic potential. So why… nothing?"
"Damn," he muttered under his breath, frustration creeping into his voice. "I'll need to research this later."
His fingers clenched slightly before he exhaled and closed the grimoire with a firm command of will. "But not now. I need to get ready 'cause I have a quest to do."
He rose from the bed and began preparing himself carefully—not rushed, but deliberate.
He wore his traditional Granger attire, adjusting the fabric until it sat properly against his frame. The clothing felt familiar, grounding him.
Then he slipped on the leather battle gloves Caspi had given him. The serpent-skin material wrapped snugly around his hands, firm yet flexible.
He flexed his fingers.
Perfect grip.
Next, he lifted the Amulet of Power and placed it around his neck. The pearl pendant rested against his chest, cool against his skin.
For a brief moment, he felt a faint pulse from within it—as if reminding him of the strength entrusted to him.
He secured the leather backpack onto his shoulders—
Inside were his essentials: the enchanted world map, Ulfzar's silver flask, Yuri's diary, mana potions, healing potions, and other necessary tools for survival.
Each item carried a memory. Each one carried support.
He fastened the revolver onto his holster belt, the mithril craftsmanship gleaming subtly in the morning light.
Alongside it, he secured his daggers in place.
He paused for a second, looking at his reflection in the small mirror inside the room.
No longer just a student.
No longer just someone's younger brother.
An adventurer.
His first quest awaited.
Danir took a steady breath. Then he stepped toward the door.
Danir stepped out of the inn and into the cool morning air, the scent of cherry blossoms as it slowly falling from its branches as the city stirred awake.
As he walked toward the stable where Rigor was kept, he pulled out the quest parchment and began reading it carefully.
"Green-salveleaf," he read quietly to himself, eyes scanning the details. "A rare, lettuce-like herb with healing properties. It grows along the northern mountains near the town of Platoundra. The request is for at least twenty pieces… Reward: five hundred bronze zens."
He pictured mountain slopes, rocky paths, thin air, and wild terrain. Herbs that rare wouldn't grow near easy roads.
Then he continued reading the second paper.
"A well-known slime hunting ground is located in the Deepwild Forest—a tropical forest known as the habitat of common beasts such as deer, boars, wild rabbits, prey birds, and other wildlife. A perfect feeding ground for slimes, which prey on smaller beasts. The forest lies in the southwest region of the Eastern Continent. The request is for at least ten bottles of slime fluid… Reward: one silver zen."
Danir lowered the parchment slightly, thinking.
Two quests from two completely different directions.
The northern mountains of Platoundra. Or the southwestern Deepwild Forest.
He let out a soft breath. "Oh great… quests in two different distant locations? I guess I need to choose one for today."
His voice was calm, but beneath it was the quiet realization that even "novice-level" quests weren't as simple as they sounded.
Distance meant time. And time meant preparation.
He reached the stable, where Rigor stood patiently in his stall. The Percheron lifted his head slightly as Danir approached, letting out a low, familiar breath.
Danir gently patted his neck. "Looks like we've got a long road ahead of us, partner."
Even for easy quests, the world outside the capital was vast.
This was only the beginning.
And even the simplest steps would require effort.
Danir chose the northern mountains first.
He mounted Rigor, and with a gentle command, they set off at a strong, steady gallop.
The dirt road stretched long and pale beneath them, fields gradually replacing the neat outskirts of Blossomdale.
The air grew cooler the farther north they traveled.
Hours passed beneath an open sky.
When the silhouette of Platoundra finally appeared in the distance, it wasn't grand like Blossomdale—but it carried its own quiet dignity.
A wide vineyard welcomed him at the town's edge.
Rows upon rows of grapevines spread across the sloping land, their branches carefully trimmed despite the cold climate.
Workers moved between them, bundled in thick coats, tending the crops with patient hands.
Platoundra was a town shaped by resilience.
The weather was colder here, the wind sharper against the skin. Yet the buildings were sturdy—stone inns, taverns with warmly lit windows, well-maintained storehouses, and large wine cellars built partially underground.
The scent of fermented grapes lingered faintly in the air.
Most of the people here were middle-class commoners and nobles who owned of Inn-Taverns, food-taverns, booze-taverns, and vineyards. In short—Capitalists. They were business-minded, practical, and ambitious.
Danir remembered the story Jared once told him—Platoundra frequently requested adventurers from Blossomdale to hunt meat and protect trade routes.
Despite the harsh climate, the town had grown prosperous that they were able to pay much for theirfood supplies.
But it hadn't always been that way.
Long ago, it had nearly fallen.
A demon-warlord had attacked, reducing much of the town to ruin.
It was King Radomir Drogonovich—along with his followers, including Jared—who had driven the demon forces back and saved what remained.
From the poorest of towns, Platoundra rebuilt itself. Wiser, prospered as the grape-wine town in the whole Aetheria.
Now, as a sign of their ambition, they sent their young ones to the Adventurer's Academy in Blossomdale.
Hoping to produce skilled adventurers of their own—dreaming that one day, they might build a kingdom independent from reliance on others.
Danir rode slowly through the main road, observing everything quietly.
Some townsfolk paused in their work to glance at him.
Their gazes lingered longer than usual.
Perhaps they hadn't seen many outsiders recently. Or perhaps it was the Granger attire.
Danir kept his expression calm, though he felt their stares.
He wasn't here as a prince.
Not as the son of the Black-Horseman. But just an adventurer on his first quest.
Without stopping in town, he guided Rigor toward the northern slopes beyond Platoundra.
The mountains waited.
And somewhere along those cold ridges—Green-salveleaf was growing.
By midday, the air had grown thinner and colder.
After half a day of riding and climbing, Danir finally reached the northern mountains where the Green-salveleaf was said to grow.
And there it was...
Clusters of thick, lettuce-like plants spread across a sheltered slope, their leaves a deep, healthy green.
They seemed almost glossy under the mountain sun.
A faint, gentle aura clung to them—barely visible, but undeniably present with healing energy.
If processed by a skilled alchemist, these leaves could be refined into a healing potion known as Healing-Salve.
"Oh… they really do look like lettuces," Danir murmured to himself as he crouched down and carefully picked one.
He stored each piece inside his storage bag, making sure not to damage the leaves.
Precision mattered.
Bruised herbs meant lower quality.
He kept on gathering...
The more he found, the more he noticed they seemed to grow in clusters, almost forming a natural trail along the mountainside.
"I should collect more," he thought. "This place is too far to travel back and forth."
He reached for another cluster—then suddenly—his Amulet of Power pulsed.
A sharp green glow radiated from it. An intermediate-level threat.
Danir's body stiffened instantly.
A thunderous sound of hooves pounding against rock echoed behind him.
He turned just in time to see it.
A mountain goat.
But not a normal one.
This creature was enormous—nearly twice the size of Rigor. Its muscles were thick and unnatural, its spiraled horns massive and jagged. Its eyes glowed the same eerie green as the herbs.
And unlike ordinary mountain goats, which would flee at danger—but this one charged.
Danir barely rolled aside as the beast's horns tore through the air where he had been standing.
The force of its movement cracked stone beneath its hooves.
It didn't hesitate.
It attacked again.
And again!
Danir drew one of his daggers and waited for an opening.
When the goat lunged forward, he sidestepped and threw hard across its neck.
The blade pierced cleanly—but the wound closed almost instantly dropping the blade down.
Danir was struck in shock. "What—?"
The flesh regenerated before his eyes. "I think it evolved…" Danir realized quickly. "It's been feeding on these herbs. It's protecting its food source."
The goat's eyes burned with territorial fury.
Even when Danir retreated beyond the herb clusters, the beast continued its relentless assault.
"I guess it's not just protecting the sanctuary," Danir muttered. "It's angry."
He dodged another violent charge.
"Look… I don't want to kill you," he said breathlessly. "But you're not giving me much choice."
The goat lunged again.
Danir pivoted and drove his dagger straight into its forehead.
The blade struck—but again, no death. Only a rapid, unnatural healing.
"This is such a hassle!" Danir snapped. "I'm not even getting paid for killing you!"
The goat roared and charged blindly.
Danir retreated, calculating, conserving mana.
He needed a weakness.
Regeneration meant sustained damage wouldn't work.
Then—the goat miscalculated.
It slammed full force into a thick mountain tree.
The impact echoed loudly, and its spiraled horns became lodged deep in the trunk.
It struggled violently.
Stuck.
Danir's eyes sharpened.
An opportunity.
He extended both hands. "Ice Shard Daggers."
Multiple crystalline blades formed in the air, shimmering with frost.
He cast them repeatedly, piercing into the goat's legs, torso, and neck.
Frost spread rapidly across its body, slowing the regeneration.
He didn't stop.
More shards.
More freezing.
Spending over half of his MP.
The goat thrashed, but the ice crept faster than its healing could manage.
Soon its massive body was encased in thick frost, movements sluggish and cracking.
Danir drew his katana.
He took one steady breath.
Then dashed forward. With a single, precise swing—he shattered the frozen body into fragments of ice and flesh.
The mountain fell silent...
Only the sound of small ice shards sliding down stone remained.
Danir stood there, chest rising and falling heavily.
"That was way harder than a novice quest." He wiped a bit of frost from his cheek and looked toward the remaining Green-salveleaf.
The mountain wind blew softly again.
Danir's level increased by two as he singlehandedly just killed an intermediate level evolved beast. And then he acquired a healing magic from it.
"Grimoire open!" He said as he excitedly checked his progress.
Grimoire's 1st page:
Danir Granger — Level 35+2=37 BladeMagus:
BP: 7,275+200= 7,475
MP: 3,000+200=3,200
STR: 6,279+100=6,379
SPD: 6,277+100=6,377
END: 6,275+100=6,375
INT: 1,705+100=1,805
Grimoire's 2nd page: Ice Shards Daggers.
Grimoire's 3rd page: Water-Cannon & Fever-Moist
Grimoire's 4th page: "Nature's Touch. Low-heal." (Can only heal minor wounds).
"Nature's Touch. High-heal." (Can heal deeper wounds.) And, (Will be unlock after reaching level 50).
Grimoire's 5th page and the rest: (Still empty)
"Oh, this is a great addition to my collection. The unpaid kill still worth it. " Danir whispered to himself while looking in his grimoire.
The mountain fell quiet after the battle.
Danir didn't waste time.
He hurried back to where he had abandoned his storage bag earlier, scanning the area carefully in case another beast had wandered in.
The wind brushed cold against his face, but the slope remained still.
He exhaled in relief when he found the bag untouched. "Good…"
He resumed gathering the remaining Green-salveleaf, moving efficiently this time.
His earlier excitement had been replaced by caution.
He inspected each cluster carefully before harvesting it, half-expecting another evolved creature to burst out.
But none did.
By the time his storage bag was full—far beyond the requested twenty pieces—his arms were sore and his legs ached from the climb.
On the way back down, he retrieved his fallen daggers, wiping them clean against a cloth before sliding them back into place.
When he reached Rigor, he gently stroked the horse's mane. "Now partner, let's head back."
They descended the mountain as the sun slowly dipped toward the horizon, painting the sky in warm shades of amber and crimson.
The cold wind softened as they left the high slopes, replaced by the steady rhythm of hooves against dirt.
It was already evening when the grand walls of Blossomdale came into view.
Lanterns were lit again.
The capital glowed warmly against the darkening sky.
Danir rode straight toward the Guildhouse, dismounted quickly as he took Rigor to the stable and left him with a bag of carrots and cabbages, and then carried his heavy storage bag onto the Guildhouse.
The place was busier than before—adventurers lined up to submit reports, some bruised, some triumphant, others exhausted.
Danir joined the very end of the long line.
His stomach growled loudly.
He hadn't realized how much the fight had drained him.
As the time crawled...
By the time he reached the front desk, it was already late evening. The same loremaster who had registered him stood behind the counter, calm as ever.
Danir placed the large storage bag on the desk with a soft thud. Then she opened it, inspecting the contents carefully.
Her eyebrows lifted slightly. "You've exceeded the requested amount."
Danir blinked. "Oh—sorry. I thought—"
She raised a hand, stopping him. "No. This is excellent work. You'll be paid double for the surplus."
Danir felt immediate relief wash over him.
"Oh, thank God. Please… could you hurry the process? I'm starving."
The woman allowed herself the faintest amused smile before completing the paperwork.
She handed him his payment: One silver and Twenty bronze zens.
For a novice quest—that was more than enough.
Danir practically rushed out of the Guildhouse and headed straight for the nearest food tavern.
The smell of grilled meat nearly pulled him inside on its own.
He spent ten bronze zens without hesitation.
Three grilled meats.
A fresh vegetable salad. And a tall cup of lemonade juice.
He ate like someone who had fought for every bite—which he had.
When he finally leaned back in his chair, full and satisfied, he felt the exhaustion settle deep into his bones.
Afterward, he walked to the Inn-Tavern he had chosen earlier and secured a comfortable room for the night.
The bed felt softer than before.
As he lay down, staring at the dim wooden ceiling, he whispered quietly to himself—
"Tomorrow… the second quest. Slimes."
A small grin formed on his face."I wonder if another magic-beast will surprise me again."
Even though it had only been a novice quest—it hadn't felt small.
He had fought an evolved beast. And he had gained a useful new magic spell from the encounter.
For his first day as a real adventurer—it was worth it.
With that thought, exhaustion finally claimed him.
And Danir slept deeply.
A really good night sleep...