They left the city with the sun on their backs and dust kicking up under their boots. The noise of shouting vendors and clanking armor thinned out behind them until it was just wind, insects, and the steady rhythm of footsteps.
Arth took the lead out of habit, but it wasn't like dragging three clueless kids behind him.
Jake walked a little to the left, rolling his shoulders lazily, brass knuckles catching light with each swing of his arms. He glanced at the road now and then—at an old wagon track, a trampled patch of grass, a fresh wheel mark—like someone who'd done a lot of walking and knew roads could tell stories.
Tyson paced on the right, sword at his hip, fingers resting near the hilt. He didn't have the stiff, over-alert posture of a greenhorn; his gaze just slid from tree line to ditch to bend in the road. Calm, but not careless. The kind of person who'd had a job go wrong once or twice and learned to pay attention.
Tina stayed closer to the middle. Every now and then, her hand brushed the handle of her dagger like she was checking it was still there. It wasn't the road that unsettled her. It was the fact that those daggers were meant to be used today.
The packed dirt road narrowed and curved toward trees. The air cooled as shade began to swallow the sunlight.
The forest line thickened as they left the last stretch of road behind. Arth stepped over a root, pushing a branch aside as he spoke.
"From here on, keep your eyes open. Slimes and the occasional goblin like these shaded spots."
He glanced back at the three. "Good place to see how you handle yourselves."
Jake gave a small nod, humble and focused. "Got it."
Tyson mirrored the nod without a word, adjusting his grip on the sword at his waist—not out of fear, just quiet readiness.
Tina inhaled softly, steadying her hands around her daggers.
Arth's tone softened. "No pressure. I just want to understand where each of you stand."
With that, he led them deeper into the trees, the air cooling as the shade thickened around them.
The deeper they went, the quieter the forest became. The sunlight thinned into scattered beams, dust motes drifting lazily through the dimming green.
Jake and Tyson didn't look uneasy—just more focused.
Jake loosened his shoulders once, settling into a steady rhythm.
Tyson's steps grew deliberate, placing his feet where twigs wouldn't snap.
Tina walked carefully, eyes flicking between the trees and the damp ground ahead. She wasn't scared—just new to this. Every sound felt a little sharper to her.
They followed the dirt path until the grass began to grow uneven, patches flattening under old wagon tracks. Nothing special, just a typical beginner-area stretch—quiet, a little too quiet.
Tina slowed. "...Wait. Did you hear that?"
A soft rustle shivered through the tall grass.
Arth shifted his weight, but didn't look tense—just attentive enough to show he'd heard it too.
Another faint blorp answered the silence.
Then, without warning, the ground ahead bubbled with movement.
One slime surfaced.
Then another.
Then several more—until eight, nine, maybe ten wobbly green blobs popped out from the shrubs and loose soil around the path like they'd been waiting beneath it the whole time.
Tina blinked. "They seriously just appear like that?"
Arth exhaled through his nose. "Welcome to beginner quests."
The slimes bounced in uneven rhythm, half menacing, half stupidly cheerful.
Arth lifted a hand toward the girls. "All right. Let's see how you three handle your first quest."
They didn't hesitate.
Jake stepped in first, knocking one slime aside with a clean, controlled strike. Tyson sliced another down the middle with a practiced swing. Tina slipped forward, her daggers flashing as she cut through hers with surprising precision.
Slimes dropped one after another, dissolving into faintly shimmering puddles.
Tina let out a breath. "Okay… that's not so bad."
But she didn't get to finish the thought.
A deep, guttural roar ripped through the trees.
Then the forest exploded with movement.
Shrubs shook violently. Branches snapped. And suddenly—dozens of goblins burst out from the shadows. Not four… not six… but more than twenty, their green bodies swarming in uneven waves.
At their center towered a hobgoblin, twice their size, muscles bulging, wielding a jagged cleaver made from rusted metal. Its eyes locked on the group with hungry awareness.
Jake tensed. "Oh, great."
Tyson raised his blade. "…Perfect timing."
Tina stepped up beside them, jaw clenched but steady. "We can handle it. One at a time."
They charged.
The first goblins rushed them fast—much faster than slimes. Jaws snapping, crude weapons swinging.
Jake struck one across the face, sending it tumbling. Tyson blocked two at once, pushing one back with a kick before slashing the other down. Tina danced between three, her daggers slicing across throats and ribs with clean precision.
For a moment, they held the line.
Their movements were sharp. Their instincts good. They weren't flailing—each fought like someone who'd been in danger before and learned to survive.
But the wave didn't stop.
More goblins poured in from the back. Ten… fifteen more. The hobgoblin barked a guttural order, and the swarm surged harder.
Jake's breath hitched as two goblins nearly pinned him. Tyson took a hit on his shoulder armor and gritted his teeth. Tina slashed down one, but another leapt straight at her, forcing her back.
"Damn—there's too many!" Jake shouted.
The hobgoblin raised its cleaver, stomping forward.
Tina's eyes widened. "That thing's huge—!"
Arth finally moved.
He stepped ahead of them, calm as if he were strolling through a morning market.
"Get down."
His voice wasn't loud. It didn't need to be.
The three instantly dropped behind him.
Arth placed his hand on his sword.
Steel whispered.
Then—one swing.
A single arc of silver light tore through the clearing.
The air split with a thunderous crack.
Goblins froze mid-charge, bodies cleanly severed before they even realized what happened. The hobgoblin took the strike head-on—split from shoulder to hip in one monstrous spray.
The shockwave ripped past them, cleaving straight through several trees behind the horde. Wood groaned. Trunks toppled. Leaves spiraled down in slow, stunned silence.
When the dust settled, the clearing was empty.
Everything—goblins, hobgoblin, trees—lay in neatly sliced pieces.
Arth slid his sword back in place with a soft click.
"...That's enough excitement for a beginner quest."
Jake swallowed hard. "…Yeah."
Tyson exhaled shakily. "Yep."
Tina stared at the clearing, still crouched. "What… was that…?"
Arth gave a small shrug.
"Just clearing the path."
The clearing finally settled into silence. Only the faint drip of slime residue and the soft creak of fallen trees remained.
Arth lowered his sword and looked back.
Jake was bent over with his hands on his knees, catching his breath. Tyson kept one palm braced on a tree trunk, sweat running down his temple. Tina was steady on her feet, but her breathing was quick and uneven.
Arth frowned slightly.
They weren't injured… just exhausted. Far more exhausted than he expected from a single goblin pack and a handful of slimes.
Strange. They handled themselves well. So why are they this worn out?
He crossed his arms.
"By the way," he said, tone even, "what are your levels?"
Tina was the first to answer. "Level three… I didn't realize it mattered this much."
Jake wiped his forehead. "Eleven. And yeah… this took more out of me than I expected."
Tyson let out a slow exhale. "Twelve. Guess the numbers don't lie."
Arth nodded once, the puzzle clicking into place.
Right. That explains it. Their instincts are good, but their levels just can't keep up with the stamina drain yet.
He pointed toward the scattered monster remains.
"All right. Catch your breath and start collecting the magic stones. Slimes and goblins both drop them. Don't leave anything behind."
They moved, tired but obedient, spreading out across the clearing.
Jake crouched beside a goblin corpse, using a small dagger to cut into the chest cavity.
Tyson handled the slimes, scooping stones out of the dissolved piles with steady hands.
Tina moved silently between them, retrieving stones with surprising efficiency.
While they worked, Arth stepped a little farther from the clearing, eyes narrowing at the torn-up terrain.
There were too many footprints.
Too many goblins for a pack this close to a city walls.
That hobgoblin shouldn't have been leading a group that size… not this close to town.
He followed the trail a few steps, saw the direction it came from, then clicked his tongue quietly.
"Hmph. Whatever," he muttered under his breath.
He turned away, brushing a leaf off his shoulder.
"I'll just report it. Let the guild decide what to do."
The decision left his mind as casually as he made it. No overthinking, no unnecessary involvement—just a man doing his part and nothing more.
Behind him, the three continued gathering stones, the soft rustling of grass and the occasional clink of magic cores mixing with the quiet forest air.
Arth glanced over to check their progress.
"Once you're done, we head back," he said calmly. "That's enough for today."
To be continued...