Still confused about what to do next, he recalled Zephyr mentioning that the registration had already been handled. Riven exhaled, adjusted his cloak, and headed back through the massive front gates. Inside, the building was as busy as ever — tamers and their beasts coming and going, the air filled with faint traces of mana and chatter.
After scanning the hall for a while, he finally spotted a sign reading Recruit Collection Desk tucked along the far side of the main floor. Making his way over, he gave his name to the attendant. After a quick confirmation, the woman turned to a drawer behind her and retrieved something small and gleaming.
"Here you are," the lady at the collection desk said, holding out a dark blue emblem in her outstretched hands. The badge gleamed under the light, its intricate design radiating an aura of importance. Riven took it carefully, marveling at its craftsmanship. It resembled the adventurer badge but had a premium feel to it, as if it were forged for a higher purpose. Of course, it would have to be — replacing one cost ten uncommon rank-2 mana cores. Riven shuddered at the thought.
He pinned the badge to his left chest, just beside his adventurer badge, the two emblems side by side like mismatched siblings. Giving the clerk a nod of thanks, he left the association building, his mind replaying the conversation with Zephyr.
There's nothing else I can do right now other than get to rank 3 as fast as possible if I want answers, he thought. Determined, he set his sights on completing the quest from the day before and began the walk to the nearest city gate.
Riven arrived at the south gate with his questionable map in hand, its faded lines and amateur drawings far from comforting. "Let's hope this doesn't get me lost again," he muttered.
A
A sudden commotion broke Riven's focus. Shouting echoed nearby, drawing his gaze toward a group of four adventurers locked in a heated argument. Two boys and two girls—none older than seventeen or eighteen—stood in a loose circle, frustration simmering between them. Their leather armor looked functional but plain, the kind anyone could buy from a city armory. From the worn stitching and mismatched belts, Riven could tell they weren't nobles.
He started to move past them, uninterested in whatever dispute they were caught in, when a snippet of their conversation caught his ear.
"Let's go back. We can't do it without a tank!" one of the girls argued, her voice strained with worry.
"We don't have time! The quest ends today—we have to go for it!" another shot back, tone sharp with desperation.
Riven paused, his gaze flicking between them and the map in his hand. The group didn't seem particularly skilled, but they had something he hadn't seen in a long time—camaraderie. Friends working together to grow stronger, to bring down beasts and share victory.
A faint, hollow feeling tugged at his chest. Not because he didn't know how to make friends, but because the ones he once had were long gone. His childhood friends had drifted away, their bonds fraying until what remained was little more than quiet resentment. And the nobles he'd spent the last year trying to befriend? They only saw him as a tool—a potential asset to gain power through. When his bonding attempt with a rare beast had failed, when the creature that should've evolved into an epic bloodline beast rejected him, those same nobles had dropped him without a second thought. Not a single letter. Not a single word since. He'd gone from "promising" to "waste of time" overnight.
He clenched his jaw and exhaled slowly. Maybe that was why he couldn't walk past this group.
As he listened to their argument, the mention of needing a tank sparked an idea. He might not have a powerful combat oriented beast bond or skill, but he did have something—his blink ability, perfect for fast distractions and mobility. Combined with his powerful amber mana—dense enough to intimidate or at least impress—he could prove himself useful.
Besides, he was tired of wandering alone. The forest was dangerous, and without proper offensive abilities, he'd have to rely on tricks and luck to survive. Joining them, even temporarily, could give him a chance to grow stronger—and maybe, just maybe, find a new direction.
Decision made, Riven straightened his posture and approached the group.
As Riven drew closer, the argument came into clearer view. Two of the four were locked in a heated exchange while the other two watched silently, tension thick in the air.
The girl doing most of the shouting had shoulder-length, straight black hair—not as dark as Riven's—but sleek and sharp against her light olive skin. Her eyes were a deep brown, steady and commanding even in anger. She stood around five and a half feet tall, posture firm, confidence practically radiating from her. Beside her stood a large wolf-like beast, its fur a mix of dark brown and gray streaks. The creature's head reached nearly to her chest—massive, muscular, and alert. Riven recognized it immediately: a Grayhound, an uncommon beast native to the northern forests. Its calm but watchful stance confirmed it was bonded to her. Slung across her back was a long spear, the iron-gray tip gleaming faintly in the daylight, a clear sign she knew how to handle herself.
The boy she argued with stood slightly taller—about five foot ten—with dark brown, curly hair that brushed the upper part of his neck. A truly massive crossbow rested across his back, paired with a slim, cylindrical quiver holding only a handful of bolts. His eyes were the same dark brown, and his skin carried a warm ivory tone. A curious detail caught Riven's attention—he wore circular, black-tinted lenses strapped to his head with rubber-like bands. They looked like a hybrid between goggles and glasses, giving him a peculiar, almost tinkerer-like appearance.
Aside from the Grayhound, Riven saw no other beast among them. The remaining two seemed to simply observe the argument, waiting for it to end.
One was another boy—his black hair and light olive complexion nearly identical to the first girl's. His eyes, too, were the same shade of brown. Riven tilted his head slightly. Siblings, he guessed. The resemblance was undeniable. This one stood a full six feet tall and carried a massive two-handed hammer across his back, the weight of it making the leather straps creak with every subtle movement.
The last member of the group was a girl of contrasting appearance—pale skin that almost glowed in the afternoon light and sandy blonde hair tied neatly in a practical braid that wrapped across her shoulder before resting at her chest. Her dark blue eyes were striking, calm yet calculating, and though her beauty was undeniable, it wasn't excessive—more natural, a quiet grace suited to a hunter who valued focus over ornament.
As Riven approached, their attention slowly shifted toward him. The black-haired girl—the one with the Grayhound—was the first to react. Her gaze drifted from his face to the badges pinned on his chest, then to Luna perched casually on his shoulder. Her expression hardened, suspicion flaring behind her eyes.
"You're only a Rookie 3," she said, her tone cool and unimpressed. Her gaze lingered briefly on Luna before she added sharply, "And that beast of yours—it can't be more than a common bloodline beast. How can you possibly help us?"
Riven grinned, unfazed by her tone. He had expected this reaction. Taking a deep breath, he began releasing his amber mana. The air around them grew heavy, saturated with raw power, the atmosphere tingling with a dangerous energy.
He recalled a trick his father had once taught him — that by releasing one's mana into the open, it not only created an intimidating presence but also allowed others to gauge one's strength, rank, and even the purity of the soul. Normally, this was a gesture reserved for negotiations or tense confrontations, but Riven decided it was worth the risk.
His amber mana, denser and far more potent than his pink, radiated outward in controlled waves. If his father was right, this would make him seem more confident — more capable — even if in truth, all he had to his name was a single non-combat skill, Blink, and a newly bonded rank-one companion.
The group instinctively tensed, hands drifting toward their weapons. For good measure, Riven blinked behind them, the spatial skill disorienting them further.
The black-haired woman spun around, her eyes wide with shock. The others staggered back, their expressions a mix of awe and unease.
"I can keep whatever you need distracted," Riven said, his voice steady, his grin never wavering.
The woman's jaw dropped. "A spatial skill… How is that even possible?"
Riven extended a hand, his confidence unwavering. "So, do we have a deal?"
The group exchanged hesitant glances, silently weighing their options. Finally, the woman sighed, her shoulders relaxing. She stepped forward, taking his hand. "The name's Nyla."
"Riven," he replied with a nod. "Nice to meet you."
Nyla gestured to her companions. "That's Tim, Jack, and Wendy."
They gave polite waves, though their wariness lingered.
Jack, the tall man with the giant hammer, broke the tension with a wide grin. "Let's head out then. We'll explain the mission on the way."
The man who had been arguing with Nyla—Tim, if Riven remembered correctly—turned toward him with a sudden grin. "Glad to have you onboard," he said, his voice carrying an easy warmth that contrasted sharply with his earlier irritation. He clapped a friendly hand on Riven's shoulder before stepping ahead of the group, his mood already lifted.
From his belt, Tim produced a small, spherical device etched with intricate blue runes that pulsed faintly, their glow dancing across his fingers. He strode toward the gate with confident steps, the others falling into formation behind him.
Riven lingered at the back, watching the group ahead. This might be interesting, he thought, adjusting the map in his hand. Luna meowed softly on his shoulder, her presence a quiet comfort as they ventured onward.
Riven walked through the forest once again, though this time he was led by Tim, whose navigational skills far surpassed his own. The dense canopy above filtered the sunlight into patches, creating an interplay of light and shadow that danced over the forest floor. Nyla slowed her pace, falling in step beside him.
"The mission is to hunt a red Zeltrick," she said, her voice calm but tinged with caution. "It's classified as near-threat level two."
Riven's brow furrowed, his curiosity piqued. "A red one? How's that different from a regular Zeltrick?"
Nyla's expression darkened into a frown. "That's the problem—we don't know. But the reward is unusually high."
"Must be some kind of genetic mutation," Riven mused. "I've never come across a red one in the records."
"Maybe," Nyla said with a shrug. "Doesn't really matter. Just make sure you tank or distract it. We'll handle the rest."
Riven nodded, the weight of her words settling on him. The group continued their march in silence, each keeping a wary eye on their surroundings. For Riven, the tension was palpable, his mind replaying the memory of the Fangleon encounter. The only source of reassurance was the knowledge that the city guard's captain had likely reported the incident, prompting a strike team to deal with the threat.
Tim abruptly halted mid-step, the orb in his hand flaring with bright blue light. The group stopped in unison, their attention fixed on the glowing device. Riven leaned closer, trying to decipher its meaning, but his confusion must have been obvious.
Tim glanced at him and explained, "We've reached the marker—this is where it was last spotted."
Riven scratched the back of his head, offering a sheepish grin. "Right, right. For a second, I thought we were getting attacked."
The others exchanged glances but said nothing, their focus shifting back to Jack. He tinkered with the orb, but it remained unchanged. With a sigh, he tucked it back into his pocket.
"Doesn't mean it's still here," he said. "But keep your guard up."
No sooner had the words left his mouth than a red blur streaked down from the trees, aimed directly at Tim. Riven's reflexes kicked in, and he blinked forward with barely a thought, amber mana surging through him. The impact sent both him and the creature tumbling across the ground.
Riven scrambled to his feet, his gaze locking onto the attacker—a hulking jackal-like creature with reddish-brown fur and piercing yellow eyes. It stood nearly seven feet tall, its fur bristling into sharp, needle-like points.
So this is the red Zeltrick, Riven thought, falling into a combat stance. Amber and pink mana coursed through his body, reinforcing it. The creature tilted its head down toward Riven and growled low, its feral gaze fixed on him.
The way it moved, its sheer size and menace, left no doubt in Riven's mind. This beasts rank was greater than two. His thoughts churned with questions, but the Zeltrick coiled its legs, readying another strike, leaving him no time to ponder.
Riven managed to sidestep the beast's dash with a barrel roll, his heart pounding.
The Zeltrick's next lunge was interrupted as Nyla darted in from its blind spot, her spear poised for a decisive strike. But the moment her weapon neared, the creature's fur seemed to come alive—radiating a faint, pulsating energy that hardened its hide in an instant. The spear struck but glanced off the reinforced fur, the impact sending a jarring vibration up her arm and forcing her to retreat.
The beast turned, but the grayhound burst from the underbrush, its fangs glowing a brilliant white as they elongated to twice their original length. With a snarl, it lunged, aiming to sink its teeth into the Zeltrick's flank. But before the bite could land, the creature's fur rippled and transformed—each strand hardening and shooting outward like a sea urchin's spines. The sudden eruption of spikes struck the grayhound head-on, piercing its hide in several places.
Sylvia appeared beside her bonded beast in an instant, wrapping her arms around its neck and yanking them both back with a desperate push. Streaks of crimson trailed through the air, blood splattering the ground beneath them. Though the wounds didn't seem deep, they were enough to make the grayhound stagger.
Riven clenched his fists, a cold realization sinking in. Maybe this was a mistake, he thought grimly. This creature wasn't just strong—it was leagues beyond their combined strength.
Before he could formulate a plan, the beast launched itself at him, spinning in its spiked form. There was no dodging the sheer area it covered. Riven blinked to a tree branch, narrowly avoiding the attack.
Perched above, he quickly assessed his mana reserves. Damn, my pink's already down to sixty percent. He wiped the sweat from his brow, his eyes scanning the shredded vegetation below. The ground bore deep, precise grooves where the Zeltrick had torn through it, leaving a path of devastation.
"Hold it for a minute! We've got this!" Tims's voice rang out, his massive cross bow now in hand, the runes on it glowing faintly.