Axel stepped out of the tavern, a fresh look on his face. His gaze lifted toward the morning sun as he took in a deep breath of crisp air, stretching his arms and shoulders until his joints popped lightly.
What should I do now? he wondered. I mean, I'm registered as an adventurer—but that was mostly to make traveling easier. In most fantasy worlds, being an adventurer means you don't need documents to move around anyway…
He paused, tapping his chin in thought. Since he was already in the city, maybe it wouldn't hurt to take on a few quests. It'd help him get some experience—literally—and level up, making him stronger against whatever unknown threats this world might throw at him.
With that decided, Axel adjusted his cloak and made his way toward the Adventurers' Guild.
....
Seriously… how could I forget about this?
Axel muttered to himself as he stared at the rows of quest papers pinned to the wooden boards lining the wall. The boards were surrounded by adventurers—some chatting loudly, others studying the postings with serious faces.
That I can't even read or write the language of this world…
He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck in mild frustration. He'd need to find someone who could read and write for him—at least until he learned the language himself. The only problem was figuring out where to find such a person.
I can't exactly pull the same trick I did with the guild receptionist…
He recalled how he had bribed the receptionist to fill out his adventurer registration form for him. It had cost him a whole platinum coin—painfully expensive, especially considering how difficult it had been to convince her in the first place. Technically, it was against guild policy for anyone else to complete those forms; only the applicant themselves was supposed to write their details.
He sighed, letting his gaze drift around the guild hall. Dozens of adventurers filled the place—some standing in groups and chatting near the walls, others seated at tables, boasting loudly about recent hunts or failed quests. The air was thick with noise, laughter, and the faint scent of ale.
Then his eyes fell on her.
A young girl, perhaps sixteen at most, stood near one of the corner tables. She was dressed simply—plain white robes, a light brown waist-length overcoat tied snugly at the front, and a long, pointed cap with a soft feather tucked into the side. In her left hand, she held a wooden staff, its shaft banded with silver near the middle, and at its top rested a glowing blue orb that pulsed faintly with mana.
A mage—or wizard type, clearly.
But that wasn't what caught his attention. There were plenty of magic users in the guild, after all. What stood out was the copper insignia hanging around her neck—the adventurer's plate marking her rank.
A beginner adventurer.
The first mage I've seen with a copper plate, Axel thought. Most of the others are at least silver or gold… maybe even higher.
He recalled what the receptionist had told him earlier about the guild's ranking system: Copper, Bronze, Iron, Silver, Gold, and Platinum—each one marking a clear step up in reputation and strength.
Most adventurers tended to be fighters or hybrids—people who combined physical prowess with a bit of magic. Pure spellcasters, though… they were rare. Not necessarily stronger or weaker, just uncommon, especially among humans.
Humans, after all, rarely possessed the natural potential to awaken either pure magical talent or extraordinary physical ability. Those who had neither usually ended up as common peasants—unless they were born nobles—hoping that luck or hard work might somehow make up for their ordinary lives.
Not that it meant there weren't any normal people in adventuring parties. There were some, of course, but most served as little more than luggage carriers—hauling supplies, cleaning gear, or tending wounds. And in some cases, especially when it came to women, they were used for sex as stress relief after tiring quests, or whatever excuse their companions could come up with.
It didn't surprise him. Many fantasy stories had things like this—only here, it was simply more honest.
He then walked toward the girl and asked, "Hey, if you're not already in a party… would you like to form one with me?"
The girl looked at him and said, "First of all, my name is Clair Buston. And second, that's a little rude—to just barge up to me like that and ask if I'm in a party or not. You know, without any proper introductions?"
"Sorry, I guess," Axel replied, scratching his cheek awkwardly. He put on as natural an expression as he could, his emotion suppressor keeping his face calm and plain, just as always.
"Proper introduction," Clair repeated, eyeing the man carefully. Though his expression seemed plain and harmless, something about him felt… off. An unexplainable pressure lingered in the air around him, faint but undeniably there.
"Oh, my name is Axel Wellington. I'm a traveler from another country, wandering different lands," Axel said, giving her a rehearsed backstory. "Though now, I'm also a new beginner adventurer in this land, looking to earn some extra money along the way."
Ah, a traveler? Clair thought, studying him closely. Something about this man didn't feel like a mere wanderer. She decided to test him, activating her special ability. Her eyes briefly glowed red.
Wait… did her eyes just flash red for a second? Axel wondered, noticing the shift before her gaze returned to normal black.
What the—power level 1000?! And that's just pure physical strength and spirit combined, with zero magical power… Is he a holy knight?
Clair silently judged him by the reading of his power. Only a holy knight could reach that kind of level, even relying solely on pure strength alone. No ordinary human—or mere adventurer—could ever achieve such power, no matter how hard they tried.
If the man in front of me is truly a holy knight, then what the hell is he doing in a backward town like Converella? Though he mentioned being from another country, suggesting he might be a foreign holy knight, the question still remains—why is he here, and, even more puzzling, why as a mere adventurer?
Clair stood still, thinking deeply in silence.
"So, are you willing to join?" Axel asked, breaking the quiet.
Clair paused for a moment, weighing her answer carefully. "Yes. But let me tell you—I'm only joining for the time being. Until I've gathered enough fame and grown stronger for the goal I have in mind, I might leave if the opportunity presents itself."
"Same from my side," Axel replied, his voice calm and almost indifferent. He turned back to the boards and asked, "So, which quest do you want to choose?"
"To be honest, I want to choose the quests that will give me quick recognition—fame and rank me up quickly. Naturally, that means taking high-risk, high-reward quests," Clair said, scanning the various postings pinned to the boards. "But as you know, adventurers can only take quests appropriate for their rank."
"I see," Axel nodded thoughtfully.
"Want to slay some goblins?" Claire asked, her eyes gleaming with determination.
"Okay… but where?" Axel asked, his voice calm, though his mind was already running through possibilities.
"Markbark Forest. If you don't know it, it's a bit further—just a few hundred meters straight across the crossroads," Claire said. "Apparently, a big group has made a base there—about a hundred goblins hiding in a large cave."
Wait a moment… isn't that…? Axel thought, his mind sharpening. He remembered that cave clearly. Not only that, it was the same forest where he had encountered that damn transgender water spirit—the one who had tried to cut him in half. He had barely survived that encounter, and the memory of it made his chest tighten with caution.
Didn't think I'd have to go back there, and deal with the same goblins I ignored before, he muttered, his voice low, laced with unease. Then he added, "It's going to be messy. Knowing goblins, that cave will probably have women—and maybe even little girls—tied up, confined, defiled, and tortured as well."
"Huh? What are you talking about? Goblins like men and little boys, not women. They're not orcs," Claire said, her brow furrowed, genuinely confused.
Seriously… gay goblins? What's next, lesbian vampires? he thought grimly, shaking his head in disbelief. His face, however, remained calm and unreadable, betraying none of the thoughts racing through his mind. Then he asked, "How do they even reproduce then?" His tone carried a subtle undercurrent of incredulity and morbid curiosity, though his expression stayed perfectly neutral.
"Well, they give birth asexually during the birth season. All of this is common knowledge," Claire explained, her voice calm and matter-of-fact, as if recounting a mundane fact rather than something grim.
"For you, maybe," Axel replied, his jaw tight but his features still blank. Most of the fantasy novels I've read describe goblins reproducing sexually by forcibly taking women. This is the first time I've heard of asexual gay goblins.
"Where are you from, actually?" Claire asked, curiosity flickering in her eyes, though she stayed alert, scanning the guild hall alive with the low hum of adventurers talking, laughing, and preparing for their next tasks.
"Outside of this continent," Axel replied, his tone even and calm, betraying nothing of his inner thoughts. He added before she could probe further, "Let's just get the quest done quickly."
"You're right," Claire said, nodding decisively. She snatched the quest from the board with practiced hands and began walking toward the guild receptionist to report the quest they were taking, with Axel following silently behind.
...
"Welcome to our humble establishment," a waiter said as Evanstone entered the tavern, its modest appearance and warm, dimly lit atmosphere giving it a simple, welcoming charm. The scent of roasted meat and baked bread lingered faintly in the air, mingling with the murmur of quiet conversations.
He scanned the room and took a seat at an available table. A waitress soon approached, offering a glass of cool water.
He held the glass in his hand, studying the clear liquid.
For some reason, I still can't get that holy knight Axel out of my thoughts, no matter how hard I try.
Evanstone drank slowly, the water refreshing but unable to wash away the persistent thoughts. Setting the empty glass back on the table, he was approached again by the waiter.
"Sir, what would you like to order?" the waiter asked politely.
"Is roasted pig available here?" Evanstone inquired, his voice calm and steady.
"Yes," came the reply.
"And orange juice?"
"Yes."
"Then please bring me some. That will be my order," Evanstone said, resting his arm on the table, his expression unreadable as he leaned back slightly, letting the quiet of the tavern settle around him.
I have to say, it's quite surprising to find a tavern on this cold mountain route toward Soaring Heights. It's a blessing for travelers, especially with the sudden blizzards that strike these paths every now and then.
Bam!
Suddenly, the tavern door burst open, slamming hard against the wall. A young girl stumbled in, rolling across the floor before crashing into a table, sending mugs and plates scattering. Chaos filled the room as people jumped up from their seats in alarm.
Evanstone glanced at her closely. She was a young, beautiful girl—blue hair flowing loosely down her shoulders, and silver eyes that faintly shimmered under the dim candlelight. Her clothes were a mix of light armor and fabric, fitted perfectly to her frame but cracked and torn in several places. She was bruised, her breathing uneven, and faint trails of blood marked her cheek and arms.
The girl slowly managed to stand, her legs trembling as she tried to catch her breath.
Then, three more figures entered through the open door.
The first was a man—bare-chested, muscular, his skin covered in scars. He wore only a pair of leather pants and boots. His hair was long and unkempt, falling over his face, and his eyes were sunken, with dark rings beneath them that made him look half-crazed. In his hand, he held a massive spiked mace, the metal stained with dried blood.
The other two were women, both dressed in long, light armor—one in purple and the other in blue. Each wore a silver helm shaped with horn-like designs—the purple one carved into a sorrowful face, the blue one into a grinning smile. Both held staffs that glowed faintly at the tips, humming with restrained magic.
Evanstone's eyes narrowed slightly. He knew all three of them. They were Holy Knights.
The man was Burto Begendo, called the Crazy—a man known to eat the insides of his victims after killing them.
The other two were the infamous Psycho Duo, twin sisters feared across the continent. Unlike Burto, who was driven purely by madness, the sisters were known for their cruel experiments—kidnapping commoners or wounded soldiers to test their vile magical theories.
What the hell are these three doing here…? Evanstone thought, his gaze shifting back to the wounded girl struggling to stay on her feet.
"Give it up. It's futile to resist, isn't that right, Quintessa?" said the woman wearing the weeping helm, her voice cold and mocking.
"So true, my dear sister," Quintessa replied with a smirk.
"Never! I won't stop until I find out why the Ten Commandments struck my father down!" the blue-haired girl shouted. A rapier formed in her hand, glowing faintly as mana gathered around its blade.
"Such a foolish princess you are," the knight with the weeping helm sneered.
Wait—she's the princess? Evanstone thought, his eyes widening slightly. It was the first time he had ever seen the royal daughter in person.
"Quressa, have you forgotten?" Burto rumbled, stepping forward with a dark grin. "She's not a true princess anymore. We, the Holy Knights, are the ones who rule this kingdom now—not the royal family."
"That's right!" Quressa said with a cruel laugh. "She's not a princess anymore—just a fugitive clinging to her past!"
"You bastards! I will liberate my kingdom!" the princess shouted, forcing herself into a battle stance, though her body trembled from exhaustion and pain.
"Then die!" Burto roared, lunging forward with terrifying speed, his spiked mace raised high and gleaming under the tavern lights. The air trembled from the force of his swing—
"Revenge Coat!"