I stared at the guild quest sheet like it was an overdue electricity bill—full of hope I could pay it, but even fuller of dread knowing I probably couldn't.
[Guild Quest]
Title: Investigate Disturbance at the Outskirts Farm
Death Rate: 1%
Reward: Enough for three days of meals—if you're a vegan living off steamed potatoes.
Note: Reports of strange noises and dying crops. Please investigate.
I raised an eyebrow at Liora, the guild receptionist who always looked like a sentient spreadsheet—neat, cold, and way too efficient at reminding me how poor I was.
"This one percent… is that survival rate or stress level?" I asked.
"A combo," Liora replied without a hint of a smile. "But hey, no fire, no dragons, and no exes. Just take it."
After three deep sighs and a spontaneous prayer that sounded suspiciously like a system error, I accepted the quest.
"All right, world. Let's see how you plan to torment me today."
[Location: Outskirts Farm]
When I arrived, I was greeted by an old farmer who looked like a hybrid between chronic stress and compost fertilizer.
"Something's in the field," he said grimly.
"The plants are wilting. The soil… sometimes laughs."
I almost asked if he'd been snacking on fertilizer for breakfast,
but I held back. Focus, Aria. Focus.
I started walking through the field and found something weird:
Hoofprints.
Just one pair.
Going back and forth.
In circles.
Zigzags.
Like a horse was overthinking life, had a breakdown, and started pacing in a spiral of existential dread.
I followed the tracks slowly.
The further I got from the house, the quieter it became.
Not just silent—the kind of quiet that felt like something was holding its breath.
And then I heard it.
"Finally."
I froze.
"You've come, human."
Okay.
Okay, Aria.
That was a voice.
Baritone.
Deep.
Intimidating.
And definitely not human.
I looked around.
Nothing.
Until I saw it.
A horse.
White.
Majestic.
Proud.
Standing alone in the middle of the wilted field.
Staring at me like it had just evaluated my entire life and decided: unimpressive.
"…You can hear me?"
I froze.
Not from fear—but because I didn't know which was worse:
saying yes and sounding crazy or saying no and getting chased by a supernatural horse.
"Uh… yes?"
"THANK THE GODS. I thought humans had gone completely deaf from all those cheap motivational podcasts."
The horse let out a long, theatrical sigh.
Like a Shakespearean actor kicked off stage for too much improv.
"My name is Valmor.
I am the Sacred Steed.
Created by the gods.
Gifted with power, wisdom, and… the ideal back posture.
My duty is one: to carry the Chosen Hero on their epic journey."
"And? How long have you been waiting?" I asked.
"…Seventy-eight years."
"…"
"I rejected all who came before. I only accept the one… who can hear my voice."
"And that one hasn't come yet."
"Correct."
"And now you think I—"
"NO!" Valmor cut in sharply. "You're not the one. I know that. You don't have the aura of a hero."
"Thanks," I muttered.
Valmor sighed.
Deeply.
There was a tragic grace in his voice—like an old man realizing his kid grew up to be a crypto influencer.
"Well… makes sense," I looked at the sky.
"This clearly isn't one of those overpowered-MC stories."
And there I stood.
In a potato field.
Facing an existential talking horsewho was supposed to wait for a Hero—but instead met me.
Aria.
Former office worker.
Magicless.
Lost.
And with a wallet full of dreams.
Whose fate was this, anyway?
Maybe everyone's.
But hey… this is just the beginning.