By the time Lyle left the workshop, his pouch was a good deal heavier—an extra 100 gold coins jingled at his side. Combined with his previous earnings, his savings now totaled 700 gold.
The herbs he had gathered from deep within the Forest of Tob had turned out to be even more valuable than he'd anticipated.
This sparked a bold thought in his mind—perhaps he could take control of the Forest of Tob. Just because no one else in this world could do it didn't mean he couldn't.
All he had to do was deal with the forest's three ruling beasts.
Back in the workshop.
Grandma Lizzie stared blankly at the two vials of alchemical potions sitting on the counter, looking as if she'd just been hit by a lightning bolt of revelation.
She had seen her share of prodigies—individuals whose talents exceeded common understanding. The most famous example in the kingdom was Lady Lakyus Alvein Dale Aindra, a noble girl hailed as a magical genius.
She had mastered Second-Tier magic by the age of ten and, astonishingly, formed her own adventuring party, "Blue Rose," at just twelve years old.
Even the president of the Royal Capital's Magician's Guild had once declared that Lakyus had the potential to enter the realm of heroes before the age of twenty.
An outrageous notion to most people, considering even casting Third-Tier spells would qualify one as a genius.
But now, Grandma Lizzie was beginning to understand the Magician's Guild President's feelings back then. She had just witnessed a level of talent in alchemy that completely defied reason.
"Grandma, has Lyle already left?" Nfirea's slightly disappointed voice snapped her out of her trance.
"Forget everything I told you earlier," Grandma Lizzie said, her face suddenly regaining its usual seriousness.
"What do you mean?" Enfrea blinked in confusion.
Haaah…
Lizzie let out a long sigh, then suddenly her eyes lit up.
"With your talent, you might actually be able to understand his methods one day. Want to become my apprentice and learn…? No, never mind. Finish mastering all the stuff I've already given you first, you little rascal."
Nfirea just stared at her, completely baffled, as the old woman continued mumbling to herself.
Adventurers' Guild.
"Hello! Are you registering a party just for yourself?" the receptionist asked with a bright and professional smile.
"There's also Little Black," Lyle replied, casually pointing down at the Barghest sitting at his feet.
"Ah… well…" The receptionist's expression froze for a moment.
"There's no rule against having a magical beast as a party member, is there?" Lyle asked, his smile pleasant and polite, but with an edge that said, Let's not make this harder than it needs to be.
"Technically, no… but…"
"Then I'll trouble you to go ahead and fill in the form for me. Also, this is for your trouble." He placed a gold coin on the counter.
Lyle had decided to register as an adventurer after picking up some critical intel and confirming it with Grandma Lizzie.
He'd nearly overlooked a crucial detail—the Kingdom of Re-Estize and the Baharuth Empire were technically at war. Every year, right after the harvest season, the Empire would launch an offensive against the Kingdom.
It was a long-standing tactic by the infamous Blood Emperor, aimed at steadily weakening the Kingdom's power, while also chipping away at his own nobility's influence to consolidate control.
The disparity in national strength had been growing more and more obvious. It didn't take a genius to realize the Kingdom was on the decline.
And now, for reasons unknown, the war had started ahead of schedule. The Empire had already begun mobilizing.
This shift in tension was exactly why the atmosphere in E-Rantel had suddenly turned heavy.
As for the reason behind the early start?
Lyle suspected it had something to do with the upcoming Royal Selection Tournament. The rising favor shown to Gazef Stronoff, a mere commoner, may have alarmed the Blood Emperor—perhaps he sensed a shift in the wind.
"Understood!" The receptionist's eyes lit up the moment he saw the gold coin, immediately switching to a more flattering tone.
Many adventurers, especially those from rural areas, were illiterate. That's why the Guild offered writing assistance—for a fee, of course. That little fee didn't go into Guild coffers either; it went straight into the staff's pockets.
"And what would you like to name your party?"
"'Free Will,'" Lyle said without hesitation.
The receptionist paused mid-writing, clearly impressed. "That's a remarkably elegant name."
Most adventurers gave their teams ridiculous, cringe-inducing names—"Bloody Wolf Fang," "Swords of Doom," "Death Meat Squad"—so "Free Will" was a breath of fresh air.
"Free Will… and your name is Lyle Valecroft, correct?"
"That's right."
"Please wait just a moment." The receptionist collected the paperwork and hurried into the back room.
A few minutes later, he returned holding a small copper tag and handed it to Lyle with a respectful nod.
"This is your Adventurer's License. You're currently ranked as a Copper-tier adventurer—the starting rank. No matter where you go, this tag will identify you as an official member of the Guild."
He then gave Lyle a quick rundown of the basics: ranks, job types, rules, and so on.
Lyle took the tag, fastening it to his belt.
This was what he'd been waiting for—the identity of an adventurer. Or more precisely, the legal mobility that came with it.
With the two nations at war, someone like him—a wandering nobody—would immediately draw suspicion upon entering the Empire. But as an adventurer, his presence would raise far fewer questions.
Of course, there were trade-offs. Every privilege came with a price.
Adventurers were treated with suspicion in many places, especially during wartime. Mercenaries-for-hire weren't always welcome.
"I've wasted enough time. Time to get moving," Lyle thought, glancing down at the tag on his hip.
It was a shame that "Eight Fingers" had been so quiet lately. That alone was enough to make Lyle suspicious.
There was no way an underground organization like Eight Fingers would ignore the loss of two high-ranking members. Something had to be brewing behind the scenes.
Year 4 of the New Calendar.
Month of Red Flame, July 18th.
Lyle left the city of E-Rantel once more.
The Baharuth Empire.
Located in the central-western region of the human continent, the Empire bordered the sea to the north and was hemmed in by mountains on all other sides. In terms of terrain and resources, it was slightly inferior to the Kingdom of Re-Estize.
Despite both countries having been established around the same time, the Empire had undergone a dramatic transformation since the rise of Emperor Jircniv Rune Farlord El Nix—better known as the Blood Emperor.
He had purged the parasitic nobles with an iron fist, and instead of collapsing under the weight of such drastic reforms, the Empire had flourished like never before.
With the Emperor's masterful leadership and the backing of the Empire's guardian, Fluder Paradyne, Baharuth had entered a golden age.
The Imperial Capital: Arwintar.
Unlike the narrow, grimy streets of the Kingdom's capital, Re-Estize, Arwintar was clean, spacious, and bursting with the vitality of a thriving metropolis.
And lately, the capital had been buzzing with talk of one thing—cheap alchemical potions.
Standard healing potions, brewed from common herbs and often riddled with impurities, usually sold for about one silver coin—affordable enough for the average citizen.
But now…
A new kind of potion had hit the market. Cleaner, stronger, and shockingly cheap—only eight copper coins.
In just a few weeks, it had shaken the entire capital to its core.