Inside the Amazon Fisheries Company building—the large Intelligence Division office.
It was night; the crescent moon was rising in the east. Yet the office lights still blazed, illuminating Amazon women working late, poring over documents.
The official workday ended at six, but in this company, such regulations were as useless as a labor law in Liberl Port. Not that it was the greed of vested interests causing this, but rather the demands of ever-accelerating expansion.
Want to go home? Forget it—never get between an Amazon and her profits!
With overtime earning triple pay, extra hours were the natural choice for every hustler in this place.
At the far end of the office, Porter, their Director, was working late too. Clad in dark blue leather and filling her chair—and her uniform—to bursting, she scribbled notes beside a cup of coffee rich with milk. Tonight, she was simply too busy to enjoy the drink.
When she finally finished her last line and set down her pen to savor the taste of her coffee, another Amazon, just done with her own stack of papers, yawned and took a sip as well. Twisting around, she looked at Porter—full of envy.
"Director, you've been different lately," she couldn't help but say. "Did you eat something miraculous? You've kept up this energy for days, you never seem to slow down."
Porter just laughed. "Not really—just fueled by coffee, that's all. Hmm…"
Looking at her barely touched first cup of the day, mind still sharp and thoughts clear, Porter couldn't help but ponder. She really had been brimming with energy lately; last week she barely made it through half a cup. Now she'd not even managed that.
It made sense, though—she'd been sleeping so well, falling asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow, not a single stray thought, not a dream or a nightmare, always waking refreshed as if reborn…
What had caused this?
Could it be… Charles?
But that only happened the one time—they hadn't even seen each other since.
Was he really that much of a miracle worker?
Besides, the other sisters all spent time with him as well…
She shook her head and smiled, murmuring, "New home, good mood—sleep's just been better, that's all."
She might not have said anything, but the words made the others in the office perk up with excitement. "The Director's place really is something special," they chimed in.
"Last night, I stayed late and ended up sleeping at your place. Normally, that means a bad sleep and lots of nightmares. But yesterday, I slept so deeply and well!"
Others agreed—their stories echoing in the late hours. Porter was startled. She often had colleagues stay for work sessions; certain intelligence matters needed extended collaboration after all.
Yet she'd never realized her home had this effect.
"Exactly," another Amazon added, "That time we played into the night, I didn't even use a quilt—we just slept right there. Normally, I'd feel exhausted after, but instead, I woke up totally refreshed—like after the best rest!"
"Is this just luck? Or does the Director's new house actually have some kind of magic power we don't understand?"
As more Amazons chimed in, Porter sat at her desk, thunderstruck by what she was hearing.
Was her new house truly imbued with some kind of beneficial energy?
Wait! Porter suddenly remembered that, when Charles had sold her the place, he'd specifically said, "You'll sleep better than ever in here"—but she'd written it off as promotional talk, never taking it seriously.
But now, it looked as though that magic was entirely real—a restorative power running through the home. Was it unique to her house, or did all the units Charles sold possess this enchantment? If they did…
Hot anticipation flared in her chest. Properties with a magical restfulness, selling for only a thousand gold each…
Priest Charles was truly a lamb to be enjoyed at our leisure—both in our beds and on the marketplace!
At that price, it's as good as giving them away!
I'm going to make a fortune. I have to buy every last one!
Even if I don't live in them myself, I could re-sell them and make an enormous profit!
Flames danced in her eyes as she dreamt of her bright and beautiful future.
...
Rubble District, Rockseeker camp, Adventurers' Guild-hall.
Anno walked alone through the crowd, her beautiful wide eyes taking in everything around her, glancing at the rewards and quests posted on the walls.
She was clad in chainmail that clearly wasn't expensive, a backpack slung over her shoulder, a shield strapped to her left arm, a longsword at her hip—all the trappings of a typical, greenhorn adventurer.
Her golden hair was tied simply with a rough cloth strip. She wore no makeup, and had even purposefully dusted herself to look like a common country girl.
Such attire made it easy for others to underestimate her—but that was no accident. She was deliberately camouflaged for a covert mission.
The rest of the Force Grey squad that accompanied her to Rubble District were similarly disguised. All of them mingled amid the crowd, feigning unfamiliarity while secretly assessing their surroundings and scouting for viable targets…
As for Anno's current mission, Charles had only half-guessed it. Yes, they were here regarding a threat that impacted the city's security—it had nothing to do with any harvest.
However, this particular threat was not the Abyssal Lord Charles had supposed. That wily old being—or perhaps Theresa's suggestion had been spot on—had, at least so far, managed not to expose even the faintest trail to Blackstaff Tower.
Anno had come for another reason entirely.
To investigate the Mountain People's recent, irregular alliance activities.
It was common knowledge that many Mountain People nursed a deep hatred toward Liberl Port; should they unite to raid the port, it would mean calamity.
While the Mountain People did remain divided by disputes and ancient grudges, Blackstaff Tower nevertheless monitored them closely.
After all, who could say if some heroic savior might emerge among them and forge an alliance of all the mountain tribes?
So this matter could not be neglected; Blackstaff Tower had to investigate their motives thoroughly, to prepare measures in advance and minimize future losses.
Anno had accepted this investigative task. Her recent setback in the South Harbor slums had left her undeterred—instead, it fueled her determination to prove her ability on this assignment.
Her chosen strategy was to have her squad disguise themselves as novice adventurers, infiltrate the Rockseeker camp's adventuring community, and then gradually trace the Mountain People's movements—after all, this place dealt with many who mingled with them.
She was no different; and whether the operation succeeded depended on her and her teammates' every move.
Now, Anno's gaze drifted to a shabby, yellowed bounty poster in a far corner. Seeing the message, anger flared within her.
Those damned hobgoblin bandits—despicable, loathsome degenerates!
She fumed inwardly, then stepped forward and tore down the neglected bounty, which had gone unclaimed for so long due to its meager reward. Turning to the nearby task window, she addressed the official inside: "Excuse me, is there any adventurer party waiting for partners on this bounty?"
Inside the booth, a bearded halfling man perched atop a high stool, puffing on a pipe with one hand while scratching his hairy, yellow-furred shin with the other.
Halflings never wore shoes. Their thick feet, adapted for the wild, came with shaggy leg hair.
When Anno approached, the man glanced up, then brightened at once. "Oh! Oh! That bounty is done—someone brought back Zenith's head two weeks ago."
"Oh dear—must have missed this one hiding in the corner. Sorry about that, I'll remove it now…"
So saying, he snatched the brittle poster with his scratching hand and stuffed it into a drawer. "Please, take a look at the other postings instead, heh…"
Anno's anger faded, replaced by sharp-eyed curiosity.
She wasn't clueless about the adventuring market; she knew that such a low bounty naturally gathered dust.
But she hadn't imagined that, even with such meager pay, someone had dared take out a wily bandit who'd plagued the local area for years. Whoever had done it was no doubt a person of justice!
And any such just soul would surely be willing to work with them to defend Liberl Port—so…
"Excuse me, sir." She inquired, "Who completed this quest?"
"Oh, three young humans," the halfling replied. Technically, this information wasn't for public disclosure, but one, the girl before him was stunning, and two, he was awfully bored. "The man, maybe from Sein, white-haired—exceptionally handsome…"
"And the two girls with him, well, they were truly beauties, too…"
He sighed at the memory, while Anno's expression shifted at those words: "That man… was his name Charles?"
The halfling lifted his eyes, full of surprise. "You know him?"
Upon hearing this, Anno couldn't help but widen her bright eyes.
Truly?
There were very few white-haired, strikingly handsome men she knew. She'd only asked on a whim and hadn't held out much hope.
But it was true?
Priest Charles had recently been to Rubble District and brought down a depraved, infamous hobgoblin bandit?
This…
It seemed unbelievable—such coincidences. She still managed to stumble upon traces of Charles here…
Suddenly, inspiration struck.
Oh, now I understand! That's it—the pieces fit!
No wonder the Priest's hair and eyebrows were gone—it must have happened when he fought the hobgoblin bandit and got caught in the crossfire!
Though his face was spared, his hair and brows were charred away!
Yes, that must be it!
Satisfied with her deduction, Anno trembled with excitement.
Charles was still as steadfast and noble as ever—never boasting, but always acting in secret to safeguard the city.
How admirable!
Delighted, her admiration deepened even further. A new thought crept into her mind.
Once I return, I should advise Madam Blackstaff to recommend him for the Force Grey!
He would need and even relish that job. And then, we could fight side by side, back to back, protecting each other and, after the battle, share an embrace—maybe even a victorious kiss…
As her imagination painted such glorious partnership, Anno blushed scarlet. She shook her head, forced herself to dismiss these fancies, thanked the halfling, then turned, a smile at the corner of her lips, continuing her search for suitable tasks…
Meanwhile, the halfling, with the same finger that had just scratched his leg, stroked his chin as he watched Anno's figure—eyes glittering.
Hmm… Looks like a rich scion pretending to be an ordinary adventurer—class must be eldritch knight, or perhaps paladin, but either way, she's among the stronger crowd…
Several more like her were scattered about the lobby—none of them looked ordinary…
Who are they? Official agents? Mercenaries hired by some noble house?
What are they here for? Abyssal Lord? Mountain alliances? Dark Elves? Or… trouble over at the Haunted Gold Mine?
...
While Anno labored in the Rockseeker camp, tirelessly investigating the Mountain People, on a peak a hundred miles away several chieftains—who deemed themselves the mountains' true guardians—were gathering in secret within the Mountaineer tribe.
There was the half-orc "Chimera" tribe, famed for their mastery over chimeras. Tall figures, often bare-chested, their deep brown skin painted with white, green, and yellow totems forming an abstract beast's head; each marked the strength of their signature three-headed chimera.
Then there was the Satyr "Green Vines" tribe, specialists in vine-warfare. These fey-blooded folk, intermarried with humans for generations, had become a stable—if greatly weakened—race. Aside from cloven hooves, sheepish ears, and tails, and their innate plant magic, they were now almost entirely human in appearance.
And, too, the Werebear "Stonehide" tribe—masters of melee druidic arts. Now greatly weakened, these shapechangers inherited three forms: a purely human guise, a bear-headed, furred, clawed humanoid shape, and a third—full beast, indistinguishable from a wild bear.
A shapechanger's gift is innate and differs from a druid's studied transformations: the former require no resources, can only assume one animal's form (with a hybrid intermediate stage), and are prone to moon-madness under full moons; the latter can assume many forms, must use spell slots, and have no such side effects.
Besides these powerful exemplars, numerous smaller human Mountain People factions—each invited by the Mountaineer or Highmountain tribes—had gathered here for this secret council.
Those attending were well aware of Liberl Port's vigilance, so they'd traveled with utmost caution, donning their tribe's insignia openly only once securely inside the Mountaineer encampment.
"Then, so it is decided, chieftains."
From the dais at the tent's far end, the young minotaur of the Highmountain tribe, Torun, stood ramrod straight, his glossy black fur immaculately groomed, his huge bovine eyes scanning the audience as he thunderingly, yet solemnly, declared in the Mountain People's ancient tongue: "The Alliance of the Mountain Purifiers is founded this day. We will do all in our power to protect our mountains from corruption by demons and evil, and prevent any vile foreign aggressors from setting foot on our land!"
The tent erupted in applause. Down below, the Mountaineer leader, Ilarode, clapped along, eyes narrowed in satisfaction as he watched the minotaur.
By rights, such an assembly should be led by him, the venerable archdruid. But after much thought, he had yielded the honor to the talented young Torun.
He believed in giving the youth a chance. In his heart, he'd already chosen the minotaur as his future son-in-law.
Following the conference, a grand feast began. The Mountaineer tribe spared no expense, bringing out their finest delicacies and wine for these honored guests. The chieftains ate and drank as they chatted quietly with those whose alliances mattered most to them. As today's hero, Torun was the star of the banquet, with countless minor chieftains flocking to speak with him—hoping to forge ties for their own future endeavors.
Torun, far from enjoying such adulation, found it exhausting; only late into the night did he finally slip away and step outside to clear his head. There, beneath the moonlight, he noticed that Ilarode had been waiting for him.
"Well done," said the archdruid. "Your performance today met my every hope for a future leader."
He praised him thus, but Torun's face showed little joy. He sighed and looked somewhat wistful. "Miss Nidalee hasn't returned yet?"
Indeed, Torun felt he'd done well today—just a shame that the girl in his heart had missed it all.
At these words, Ilarode's smile faded. "Don't worry, she'll return soon. Don't let such trifles trouble your mind."
He spoke calmly, yet his own heart was anxious. Only days ago, he'd performed a secret ritual to divine the fate of his rebellious daughter.
But nature's reply had been frustratingly vague. His daughter was neither dead nor imprisoned, but had lost all connection with the life of the land—it was as if she'd entered another world, no longer within the boundaries of the material plane.
Thus, even as archdruid, he could only hope for her return. With the upcoming alliance and looming decisions on the mountains' fate, he could not afford to spend precious time and energy on sentimental matters—he had to first steady Torun and focus on greater concerns.
Now, the minotaur sighed, then forced a note of confidence into his voice. "Understood, Archdruid. No matter the outcome, our alliance will remain unbreakable!"
...
Time passed swiftly. Whether in study, exercise, business, or training, Charles's progress had been stellar on all fronts.
In the training grounds.
Facing the archery targets, he took a deep breath, raised his hand, felt the flow of arcane energy and chanted: "Eldritch Blast!"
Buzz—
In an instant, four magic circles—each as large as a washbasin—materialized above his shoulders. Four searing beams of energy burst forth, lashing out at four separate archery targets!
Bang, bang, bang—BANG—
The four targets exploded instantly. At the sight, Charles lit up with joy.
Success!
All four Eldritch Blasts now carried incredible power; this meant he'd fully mastered the secrets of Agonizing Blast!
Excellent. Coupled with his Illusionist's Bracers and Hexblade's Curse, he could now unleash four bolts at once, each packing about as much punch as a heavy crossbow—the perfect magical turret for the battlefield, always maintaining consistent output!
He exhaled in satisfaction, then called up his system and opened his attributes panel, seeing the following:
Host: Charles
Gender: Male
Race: Human Subspecies (Silver Kin)
Age: 15
Height: 1.71m
Weight: 63kg
Strength: 8
Agility: 9
Constitution: 11
Intelligence: 13
Perception: 12
Charisma: 20
Class: Hexblade (Level 5)
Supernatural Gift: Toxin Immunity
Class Abilities: Pact Magic, Hex Warrior, Hexblade's Curse, Eldritch Invocations, Pact of the Blade
Remaining Spell Slots: 27/27
Highest Spell Slot Level: 3rd-level
Eldritch Invocations: Eyes of the Rune Keeper, Eldritch Mind, Thirsting Blade, Agonizing Blast
Feats: Extended Spells
Cantrips: Blade Ward, Eldritch Blast, Light, Shocking Grasp
1st-level spells: Create or Destroy Water, Mage Armor, Shield, Absorb Elements, False Life, Sleep
2nd-level spells: Gust of Wind, Blur
3rd-level spells: Elemental Weapon
Remaining Purification Points: 3659
Not only had he gained a powerful new Eldritch Invocation—his other attributes had also improved considerably. Sustained training and nutrition had put another six kilograms on him, and his constitution had grown again to eleven.
Overall, his strength had jumped upward. In an open fight, he might even have the confidence to singlehandedly slay Zenith!
He was not yet level six, and his stats were merely so-so, but this CR 6 boss no longer posed much of a threat.
However, his balance of Purification Points lagged behind his rapid growth in strength.
Perhaps thanks to the discovery of his room's secret, Porter later approached him to buy more houses. Charles seized the chance to raise the price, explaining that the earlier deals were "friends' rates for comrades-in-arms; for formal sale, the price is two thousand gold."
He'd worried the price too high—after all, this was South Harbor District: underdeveloped, with poor links to the other districts, and little room for real estate speculation.
At two thousand gold, his conscience pricked him—even more so since he'd bought up that land at rock bottom from the poorest slum dwellers, the average land cost just one gold per square meter.
What's more, he didn't have to pay for building materials or hire masons—everything was handled by the system. His total costs remained extraordinarily low.
His largest expenses were the bribes needed for South Harbor's officials—to secure the formalities and keep trouble at bay...
Apart from that, the rest was sheer profit. The rates were so high they left Charles feeling a bit guilty.
But in truth, he still underestimated the value these homes held for people of this time. Once he set the price at two thousand gold per unit, Amazon buyers flocked in like a swarm, demand far outstripping supply and forcing him to build dozens more on short notice—spending thousands more Purification Points in the process…
So, while he made a fortune selling houses, his Purification Points were mostly spent. To go from fifth to sixth level, he needed 7,500 Purification Points; at the current altar rate, it would be another year before he could advance.
Still, he now had a rough plan for further leveling.
From South Harbor, if he sailed southwest, he'd reach an island teeming with undead—a classic "undead hunter" grind spot for all players.
The boss there was terrifying, well beyond even the combined power of all the monastery's witches, but as long as he avoided the main quest, there would be no trouble!
Apart from the boss and his minions, the rest of the wandering undead posed hardly any threat. For Charles, who now equated undead with farmable Purification Points, that island!
It's decided, the next stop is there!
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