The afternoon sun bathed Mistvale in a warm golden glow.
The village square remained as lively as ever.
Players hurried between shops, eagerly purchasing beginner equipment before venturing beyond the safety of the gates. Merchants loudly advertised discounted potions while children chased each other around the village fountain.
Aster walked quietly through the crowd.
His destination was the Adventurer's Quest Board.
If he wanted to obtain an offensive skill, hunting monsters was the obvious next step.
Yet before he reached the guild, something caught his attention.
Near the edge of the square, beneath a weathered maple tree, sat an old man.
His clothes were patched together from faded pieces of cloth.
His gray beard reached almost to his chest, while an old straw hat shaded his wrinkled face.
Unlike the other villagers, he wasn't selling anything.
Nor was he asking for food or money.
He simply sat there.
Watching.
Patiently observing everyone who passed.
Strangely...
No player spared him more than a glance.
Some walked around him.
Others didn't even seem to notice him.
"...That's odd."
Curiosity won over caution.
Aster approached.
The old man slowly lifted his head.
Cloudy eyes met Aster's.
Then...
A warm smile appeared.
"You stopped."
His voice was gentle.
Most players would've dismissed it as ordinary NPC dialogue.
Aster simply nodded.
"I did."
The old man chuckled.
"Most youngsters are always in a hurry."
"They chase monsters."
"They chase gold."
"They chase glory."
"But very few..."
He looked toward the bustling square.
"...have time to stop."
Silence settled between them.
Then the old man asked,
"Young adventurer."
"Would you like to hear an old story?"
Aster hesitated for only a moment.
Normally, he would've assumed it was meaningless background dialogue.
But after everything involving the Primal Codex...
He had learned one lesson.
Nothing was meaningless.
"...I'd like to hear it."
The old man's smile deepened.
"Good."
He leaned comfortably against the tree.
"This happened long before Mistvale became the peaceful village you see today."
His gaze drifted toward the distant northern forest.
"There was once a man."
"He wasn't born a noble."
"He wasn't blessed by the gods."
"He possessed neither legendary bloodline nor extraordinary talent."
"He was merely the son of a woodcutter."
Aster unconsciously leaned closer.
"But monsters loved this land."
"Every harvest season..."
"They descended from the mountains."
"They burned homes."
"They slaughtered families."
"They turned villages into graves."
The old man's voice remained calm.
"There were knights."
"They all died."
"There were mages."
"They all fell."
"There were mercenaries."
"They fled."
Only one man remained.
"The woodcutter's son."
"He carried nothing but an old iron sword."
The old man's eyes slowly closed.
"He fought because no one else could."
"He stood before the village gate."
"One man."
"Against hundreds."
Aster listened without interrupting.
"People say..."
The old man smiled wistfully.
"...that his sword never stopped moving."
"He fought until sunrise."
"His sword was soaked with blood of the enemies."
"Eventually, with his strong will and perseverance, together with the blood of the monsters, his sword gained a soul, one with him, and become a divine sword."
"When the smoke cleared..."
"Not a single monster remained standing."
The sounds of the busy square seemed to fade away.
Only the old man's quiet voice remained.
"The villagers called him..."
"...the Divine Swordsman of Mistvale."
"They built statues."
"They sang songs."
"They celebrated his victories."
"But as decades passed..."
"Songs became legends."
"Legends became myths."
"And myths..."
"...became forgotten stories."
The old man sighed.
"Eventually..."
"Even his name disappeared."
Aster frowned.
"Nobody remembers him?"
"They remember the hero."
The old man looked toward the village fountain.
"But not the man."
Silence lingered.
The breeze gently carried fallen leaves across the stone road.
After several moments, Aster quietly asked,
"What happened to his sword?"
The old man's smile returned.
"No one knows."
"Some believe it was buried with him."
"Others believe it waits for someone worthy."
"Perhaps..."
He chuckled.
"...it simply grew tired of waiting."
The story ended.
Neither spoke.
The village noises slowly returned.
Players laughed.
Merchants bargained.
Children shouted happily.
Yet somehow...
The world felt different.
Aster bowed his head.
"...Thank you."
The old man merely smiled.
"It is enough that someone listened."
The moment those words left his lips—
A sharp chime echoed inside Aster's mind.
Hidden Quest Discovered
『Echoes of the Forgotten Guardian』
Quest Type: Hidden
Conditions Met:
✔ Spoke with the Forgotten Storyteller.
✔ Listened to the complete legend without interruption.
Quest Description
Long before Mistvale became a sanctuary for novice adventurers, a nameless swordsman defended the village against overwhelming odds.
Time has buried both his deeds and his name.
His blade has vanished from history.
Perhaps...
History simply awaits someone willing to seek it.
Objective
Find the Lost Sword of Mistvale's Divine Swordsman.
Rewards
???
Special Notice
The Primal Codex has shown unusual interest in this quest.
A second notification immediately appeared.
Unlike the game's polished blue interface...
It belonged to the Primal Codex.
Ancient words slowly engraved themselves across worn parchment.
Stories are fragments of Truth.
Forgotten names often guard forgotten paths.
Seek the blade.
Seek the man behind the legend.
Only then shall another Truth reveal itself.
The parchment vanished.
Aster remained standing in silence.
"...The Codex reacted."
That alone told him everything.
This wasn't an ordinary hidden quest.
It was connected to the ancient truths he sought.
He looked back toward the old storyteller.
"...Where is the sword?"
The old man only smiled.
"If I knew..."
"...it wouldn't be lost."
Aster couldn't help but laugh.
"I suppose you're right."
He bowed respectfully once more before turning toward the northern gate of Mistvale.
Originally, he had planned to search for an offensive skill.
Now...
It seemed fate had offered him a different path.
Somewhere beyond the peaceful village lay the forgotten sword of a hero whose name history had erased.
And Aster had the unmistakable feeling...
That this was only the beginning of a legend hidden beneath another legend.