Translator: CinderTL When it was Marcus’s Team’s turn, a gaunt-faced guard lowered his halberd to block their path.
“Routine inspection,” the guard said, his voice hoarse and cold.
“Names, origins, purpose for entering the town, and identification badges, please.” “Adventurer,” Marcus replied succinctly.
“They’re all members of my team.
We’re here to deliver a mission to the adventurer’s Association.” He pulled a bronze badge from his pocket and handed it over—the official identification issued by the adventurer’s Association.
The badge’s surface had been polished smooth by years of handling, engraved with Marcus’s name and a crossed sword and shield emblem.
Gray and Vales produced their badges as well.
Zellier, remembering he had one too, fumbled through his pockets for a while before finally retrieving it and handing it over.
While the others’ badges were bronze, Zellier’s was a plain iron one, looking rather shabby in comparison.
The guard glanced at the badges, confirming their identities.
Then his gaze shifted to the group itself.
The bulging, blood-scented backpacks, the dried bloodstains on their clothes, and Gray’s exposed, wounded arm—nothing seemed out of place.
The guard nodded slightly and returned the badges.
“Welcome back to town.
Get your injuries treated quickly.” With the halberd raised, the group was allowed to pass through the gate.
Upon entering Blackstone Town, a vibrant scene unfolded before Zellier, as if the melodious strains of a lute were ringing in his ears.
Most of the town’s buildings were two-story structures with stone foundations and wooden upper floors, their roofs covered in deep red or brown tiles.
The main thoroughfare was paved with irregular bluestone slabs, flanked by shallow drainage ditches.
The clamor of merchants hawking their wares, the rhythmic clang of hammers from the blacksmith’s forge, and the boisterous laughter of passersby blended into a cacophony that instantly pulled Zellier back from the monotonous silence of the Graywood Forest.
Before him lay a living, breathing world—a stark contrast to the concrete jungles and steel forests of his previous life.
A plump matron in an apron bustled outside the bakery, arranging a basket of freshly baked, sugar-dusted loaves on the display shelf.
A wandering bard sat on a street corner, recounting tales of heroic deeds, his stirring melodies flowing from the strings of his lute.
Adventurers gathered in small groups at outdoor tables, polishing their weapons while loudly boasting about their latest exploits.
“Hey!
Watch where you’re going!” The sharp rebuke startled Zellier.
He quickly stepped back as a farmer’s cart, pulled by a draft horse, rattled past at breakneck speed, nearly colliding with him.
“What are you thinking about?
You’re daydreaming even while walking.
Did you overexert yourself with magic?” Vales patted Zellier’s head.
“No, I just think…” Zellier struggled to find the words.
“It’s just…
it’s so amazing.” Vales gave Zellier a strange look.
After crossing two streets, the team finally arrived at the Adventurer’s Association.
The building was a rugged, three-story structure of wood and stone.
Years of wind and sun had weathered the walls into mottled hues.
A faded relief carving above the entrance depicted crossed swords and a shield, their edges scarred with countless scratches.
Pushing open the door, a cacophony of voices surged forth.
“Mist Cave goblin extermination mission!
Need a vanguard!” “jackalman purge in the depths of Graywood Forest!
Two warriors needed!
I want those mongrels’ heads twisted off!
Fair pay, all equipment damage covered!” “Caravan escort mission!
Rangers preferred, minimum rank: Lower Tier!” Waves of fervent recruitment cries rose and fell, ringing in the ears.
The faint scent of blood mingled with the reek of sweat, intensifying the frenzied atmosphere.
The interior of the adventurer’s Association was exactly as Zellier had imagined.
A massive wolf head trophy hung on the wall, empty wine barrels were stacked in the corners, and adventurer armed with various weapons crowded the hall—a scene straight out of a fantasy novel.
Zellier’s heart raced noticeably faster.
These were men and women who risked their lives daily.
adventurer died on missions every day, yet new blood continued to pour in.
Driven by greed, ambition, and the burning desire to escape a life of mediocrity.
Marcus skillfully pushed through the crowd to the counter, where a young receptionist with freckled cheeks greeted him.
“Hello, I’m Ella, the receptionist.
How can I assist you?” “I’m here to turn in the wild wolf extermination mission.” Marcus unloaded a burlap sack and dumped a pile of skinned wild wolf left ears onto the counting tray.
“Very well.” Ella first checked the mission records to confirm the task.
Then, using a counting stick, she began tallying the wolf ears.
“Thirty-six wild wolves in total.
According to the mission terms, you’ll receive one hundred and eight silver coins as compensation.” “Good.” “I also want to report an encounter with a demonic beast,” Marcus said.
“An encounter with a demonic beast?” Ella’s brow furrowed slightly.
“Yes, we encountered a juvenile mist demon,” Marcus replied.
“So it was that…” Ella’s expression grew more serious.
Though a juvenile mist demon posed less of a threat than its adult counterpart, a “Challenging” ranked demonic beast was no joke.
It could easily claim lives and required immediate reporting.
“In what area did you encounter the mist demon?
What creature’s body was it grafted with?
Its movement speed shouldn’t have been too high, otherwise escape would have been impossible…” Faced with Ella’s probing questions, Marcus simply shook his head.
“We didn’t escape.
We killed the mist demon.” “…” Ella’s brown eyes widened slightly, and the hall fell silent for a moment.
The boisterous adventurers turned their heads, their attention drawn by Marcus’s words.
“You…
you killed a juvenile mist demon?” Ella asked, her voice filled with astonishment.
Marcus said nothing, simply silently retrieving a trophy wrapped in thick cloth from his pocket.
Seeing this, the adventurers who had been skeptical were forced to believe everything Marcus had said.
The prismatic crystal, wreathed in swirling mist, was undoubtedly the mist demon’s magic core!
“Marcus’s Team actually took down a mist demon…” “How did they manage that?
The energy barrier surrounding mist demons is practically immune to all physical attacks.
I know an entire adventurer’s team that died at its hands.” “I know Marcus—a low-ranking warrior who hasn’t even mastered martial qi yet.
Gray and Vales are about the same…
Did that newcomer break the energy barrier?
I heard he’s a mage?” “I saw him a few days ago.
I think his name was Zellier…
It’s rare to see mages taking missions from the Adventurer’s Association these days…” (End of the Chapter) —————————————————— What happens next?
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