The sound of steel clashing against steel echoed through the clearing.
Noah exhaled sharply, his katana—Kagetsume—already mid-swing as he darted forward. His legs pulsed with augmented strength, muscles tense and aching from overuse, but still functional. Across from him, two Enchanters raised their hands, gathering mana for a wide-scale spell.
"Too slow," Noah muttered under his breath.
He leaned in, twisting his hips with surgical precision.
"Crescent Fang!" he called out.
A flash of motion. His blade swept diagonally across the air, fast and silent. A pale arc of light—sharp and moon-shaped—traced behind the cut like a ghost. The Enchanter on the left barely saw it coming; his spell died on his lips as Noah's strike knocked the staff clean out of his hand. The second opponent flinched, but it was too late.
Noah spun, leg muscles howling as he forced another step.
"Crescent Fang!" again.
The strain was immediate. His wrist twitched. His calf locked up for half a second—but the blow still connected, slashing across the enemy's sleeve and sending his casting focus spinning across the dirt.
Both men stumbled back, disarmed, gasping. They weren't dead. Not even bleeding heavily. But they were done.
Noah planted his foot and backed away, chest rising and falling with effort.
'Damn… my muscles can't keep up. Just three uses and I'm already burning.'
He adjusted his grip on Kagetsume, the katana resting low now, its point angled at the earth.
'I'm not used to this body yet. I had years of training... and now I'm stuck in a teenage frame.'
The pain in his arms flared again—light but growing. He ignored it.
'Still…'
A faint smirk crossed his lips.
'Even in this body, you're still adapting to me. Just like the master said… Sharp and perfectly balanced.'
The two Enchanters had dropped to their knees, both eyeing him with wide, fearful eyes. Noah didn't even glance at them again. He had more to deal with.
To Noah's left, another duel was coming to an end.
Serra—the woman with dual affinity for Gaia and Aqua—stood with her arms raised. Vines shot up from the ground, wrapping around her younger opponent. A wave of water followed, swirling with shards of frost as it surged forward.
But her target didn't flinch.
The girl with deep ocean-blue eyes and snow-white hair stood calmly, her crimson coat fluttering in the wind. Then—suddenly—her lips parted.
"Crimson Flare!"
The flames erupted in an instant.
A spiral of fire burst from her palms, ripping through the vines and vaporizing the ice midair. The sheer heat of it scorched the ground beneath her, and the shockwave blew Serra off her feet before she could react.
The mage landed hard, groaning, smoke rising from her cloak.
The girl didn't advance. She simply lowered her hands and stood tall, breathing slowly as if the attack had taken little effort. Her hat had nearly slipped off in the blast, but she caught it, pulling it back down to shade her face.
Noah glanced her way, expression unreadable.
'She's good.'
But before he could think further, a shout tore through the field.
"Gaia Spike!"
A stray bandit—one who had avoided the skirmish—stood at the edge of the trees, his palm glowing with green mana. The earth beneath him shifted, then launched a jagged, earthen projectile straight toward the girl with blue eyes.
Noah's eyes widened.
"Shit—"
He moved without thinking.
"Crescent Fang!"
Noah's voice rang out as he launched himself forward, his body surging with augmented force.
The air around him cracked with pressure—his legs, reinforced by raw mana, propelled him like a bullet across the battlefield. His right wrist twisted with practiced precision, guiding the dark blade in a diagonal arc.
A pale, moonlit slash carved through the air.
The projectile of rock shattered on contact, the force of the swing dispersing it into harmless fragments before it could reach its target.
Noah landed between the girl and the bandit, knees bent from the momentum. His muscles ached—especially his legs and shoulder—but he gritted his teeth and pushed through. His body wasn't built to handle repeated use of techniques like this yet… but he didn't care.
The girl behind him gasped softly. Her hat slipped.
Noah turned just enough to glance back. "You alright?"
She didn't respond—her blue eyes locked onto him, wide and filled with something he couldn't quite read. Her hair, now exposed, flowed like fresh snow in winter. Pure white, almost silver under the morning sun.
And then she murmured it—so low he almost missed it.
"…It's you."
Noah blinked. "Huh? Did you say something?"
He stood up, brushing dust from his coat, and extended a hand toward her.
She hesitated, then shook her head and reached for his hand. He pulled her up gently.
'Who… is she?' he thought, brow furrowed.
But there wasn't time to ask.
Behind them, Harlan—the bald man with the axe—bellowed as he slammed the remaining bandit into the dirt. The battlefield had gone silent.
The ambush had failed.
The clearing smelled of scorched wood and churned soil. Bodies lay groaning on the ground—disarmed, tied, and humiliated.
Noah adjusted the grip on Kagetsume before sheathing her with a quiet click. He walked toward the pile of defeated bandits, breathing slightly heavy. His arms still tingled from overexertion. One more Crescent Fang and his muscles might've torn.
Nearby, the white-haired girl dusted off her clothes silently. She hadn't put her hat back on.
Harlan, as casual as ever, wiped his axe clean on a bandit's cloak. "Wasn't expecting a damn mutiny," he muttered, eyeing Serra, the dual mage, who now sat tied up with a scowl and a bleeding lip.
"You alright?" he asked, nodding toward Noah.
Noah rolled his shoulder slowly. "Yeah. Just need a bath. And maybe a month of sleep."
The noble stood with arms crossed and a sour expression, flanked by two guards who looked more exhausted than alert. His clothes were dusted with dirt from the skirmish, and his powdered wig was tilted awkwardly on his head. When he saw the group approaching, he forced a thin smile.
"You've done well," he said, clearing his throat. "Very… efficient. My merchandise is safe, and I'm unharmed. That's what matters."
Noah stepped forward, arms folded. "I think that qualifies as mission success."
"Indeed," the noble replied. "Your job was to ensure my safety, which you did. The terms were—"
"I think this deserves a bonus," Noah cut in, his tone casual but sharp. "We weren't supposed to get ambushed. And we certainly weren't told one of our teammates would sell us out."
The noble blinked. "Well, unfortunate circumstances do happen on the road—"
Noah didn't let him finish.
He turned slightly, crouched near one of the bound bandits, and began untying the ropes around his hands, slowly and deliberately.
The noble paled. "W-Wait! What are you doing?!"
Noah looked up, expression blank. "Just returning the favor. After all, if our lives weren't worth any extra, I figured theirs might be."
The noble started sweating, tugging nervously at his collar. "N-No need for rash decisions! Fine, fine! I'll compensate you. Properly."
He snapped his fingers, and one of the guards brought over a pouch that jingled heavily with coin. "Eighteen gold coins. Eighteen more than promised."
Noah accepted it without a word, weighing it in his hand with a small smirk. Then he turned to Harlan and the white-haired girl.
"Six each, plus the base two," he said, handing them their share.
Harlan whistled. "Now that's more like it."
The girl took hers quietly, eyes flicking once toward Noah.
The noble cleared his throat again. "I trust this concludes our business."
Noah didn't reply. He was already walking away.
The girl with the snowy hair stood apart from the group, staring at her share of the gold. The moonlight-colored strands framed her face gently now that her hat was gone. She seemed both lost and focused—thoughtful, but alert.
Noah stretched his arms, cracking his neck with a sigh. The earlier pain in his muscles had dulled, replaced by a subtle warmth in his limbs. He glanced toward the girl.
'She hasn't said a word since whatever she tried to tell me… She said it so low I barely caught anything.'
He stepped closer. "You okay?"
She blinked, looking up. "Yes," she replied softly.
"Earlier," Noah said, voice low, "when I fell on you—by accident, sorry about that—didn't you try to say something?"
She shook her head. "No, you probably imagined it."
'You sure? Hmm… I won't press it. Don't want her thinking I'm weird. But I swear I heard something, loud and clear.'
"Alright. My bad." He scratched the back of his neck. "Anyway, let's head back. We're not getting paid to stare at trees."
"We've still got to hand in the mission report," he added, nodding toward the path where the noble was already waddling ahead, surrounded by his shaken guards. "Let's go before he decides to 'accidentally' forget about it."
The girl simply nodded and followed him, brushing a strand of white hair behind her ear.
Behind them, Harlan walked with a relaxed stride, his axe slung over his back. "You two are always this dramatic?" he asked.
The sun had dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows through the trees as the caravan finally reached the gates of the next town. A small checkpoint stood ahead, where two guards waved them through after a brief inspection.
The noble, now seated comfortably in his cushioned carriage as if the danger had never existed, didn't even bother to glance back at them.
Noah walked ahead of the group, arms resting behind his head, posture relaxed—but his thoughts were elsewhere.
'In the end, the mission went exactly like it did in the game. Someone betrayed us, and if you put enough pressure on the noble—who looked like he was about to shit himself from fear—he'd cough up extra money. Eight gold coins. That'll cover a lot, but I'm still short. I've got three weeks left... I'll take whatever jobs I can and stack up more.'
Behind him, Harlan yawned loudly. "Not bad for a first job together," he said, swinging his axe up to rest on his shoulder. "Got gold in my pocket and no limbs missing. That's a win in my book."
Noah smirked faintly. "Speak for yourself. My shoulders still ache."
"Try swinging a real weapon," Harlan said, chuckling. "Not some fancy letter opener."
"I'll pass," Noah replied dryly.
Beside them, the white-haired girl walked silently, her eyes lowered to the ground. She held her pouch of gold loosely, as if unsure what to make of it.
Noah glanced toward her.
"You alright?"
She looked up and gave a short nod. "Yeah."
He raised an eyebrow. "You sure? After everything that went down…"
"I've had worse," she said simply. Then, after a moment: "Thanks… for earlier."
Noah shrugged. "Don't mention it."
They reached the town's central square. The guild hall stood just ahead—its stone walls solid and weathered, torches flickering to life as dusk settled in.
Noah stopped at the steps and turned to the others. "Let's file the report, collect the official credit, and then I'm getting a real bed."
"You're no fun," Harlan said with a grin. "I was gonna suggest we grab a drink."
"I'll pass," Noah said. "My arms feel like wet rope."
The white-haired girl smiled faintly. "Next time."
That small smile gave Noah pause. It was the first time she'd shown even that much.
He returned a nod, then stepped forward to push open the doors of the guild.