The morning came with a low mist clinging to the treetops, soft and pale beneath the rising sun.
Red opened his eyes before the light reached the window. No alarm. No sound. Just a habit. It was always like this.
He sat up, sweeping the blanket aside with one motion. His body moved with quiet precision, no hesitation, no wasted effort. Years of routine had turned mornings into something ritualistic.
First, he stepped out to the stream, where the chill water mirrored the sky. He cupped a handful and splashed it across his face, letting the cold wake him fully. Then he retrieved his toothbrush, made from woven beast hair and a strip of treated wood, and brushed his teeth with powdered mintroot.
By the time the birds began chirping, Red was already inside, checking his gear.
The sword was first. He unsheathed it, holding the blade toward the window to catch the light. No chips, no dulling. He ran a whetstone along the edge anyway, routine demanded it.
Next came the armor.
Each piece was inspected, from the small buckles on his greaves to the interior padding of his chestplate. A single loose stitch could kill a man at the wrong moment. Red never gave fate that chance.
Once the armor was ready, he checked his traps again, seven in total, spread across the surrounding forest. All untouched. No blood, no disturbed soil, no broken glyphs.
He returned, satisfied, and packed a small satchel: a few dried meat strips, a hunk of travel bread, and two unused potions from his last mission. Basic red and orange, he had stronger ones, but these were enough for minor wounds.
The last item was heavier.
Baphomet's horn, wrapped in thick cloth and tied with rope, rested atop the table like a trophy he refused to display. He looked at it for a moment. Then tucked it under his arm and headed out.
Red didn't walk toward Silverhaven directly.
Instead, he veered off the main path about five kilometers from the city's eastern road. The trail he took wasn't marked on any map. It was barely visible, overgrown with weeds and thorn root vines. But Red knew it well.
This path led somewhere most adventurers never went. Somewhere they were taught to ignore.
The slums.
Nestled between the crumbling remains of an old outpost and a dried-up canal, the slums lay outside Silverhaven's walls, forgotten by the kingdom and abandoned by mercy. Smoke curled from makeshift chimneys, and the sound of coughing children and creaking carts filled the air like background noise.
He didn't speak to anyone. He never did.
He moved like a shadow, slipping between crumbling stone alleys until he reached the old wooden crate behind a rusted fence, the one that had long since become his spot. A small pile of discarded cloth and broken tools lay there, untouched.
Red crouched.
From his satchel, he took out the food, sealed tight in leaf-wraps to prevent rot, and placed them inside the crate. Two bundles. Enough for a few mouths.
Then the potions. Minor healing elixirs. Unused. Still good.
He set them beside the food and stood up.
Behind a crumbled wall a short distance away, someone watched.
A girl, thin, dust-covered, with tangled hair and a wary look, peeked out, just briefly, just enough to catch a glimpse of the man in black armor and the glint of something red beneath his cloak.
She didn't speak. She never had the courage to.
And Red didn't look back. He never acknowledged them.
His steps echoed softly as he returned to the main path.
Silverhaven's eastern gate loomed ahead, its towering arch carved with runes and royal crests. Guards in blue-and-gold uniforms barely spared him a glance as he approached. They knew him. Not by name. But by presence.
Red passed through without a word.
The capital was already alive with noise, merchants shouting, carts rolling, bells ringing near temples and schoolhouses. But none of it touched him. He weaved through the crowd like wind through leaves, silent, untouched.
The Adventurer Guild Hall stood near the heart of the city. A tall, ornate building with stone pillars and stained glass windows depicting scenes of old heroes. Red had seen them all before. They didn't matter.
He stepped through the front door.
Inside, the hall buzzed with activity. Rookie adventurers argued over escort jobs, a bronze-ranked party showed off their goblin trophies, and a heavily armored man laughed as he flirted with a hostess.
Red ignored them.
He moved straight to the counter where the receptionist waited, curled black hair, amber eyes, and a stack of paperwork nearly taller than her head. Sophia.
She didn't smile. She never did with him.
"Reporting quest completion?" she asked, tapping a quill against her ledger.
Red unwrapped the horn and placed it on the counter.
Her pen stopped mid-air.
Sophia: "…This is Baphomet's."
He nodded once.
Sophia didn't question how he'd done it alone. She'd learned long ago not to waste time asking things he wouldn't answer. Instead, she stood up and disappeared into the backroom with the horn.
A few minutes later, she returned, holding two things: a small pouch of coins, and his updated guild card.
Sophia: "Verification confirmed. Reward, eight gold coins. Quest Point bonus… eight hundred,"
Sophia: "You're already overkill for these missions, you know. Save some for the rest of the guild."
He took the pouch. And the card. Then turned.
Sophia watched him for a moment before returning to her ledger. "…Still not talking, huh?"
Red didn't answer. He never did.
The Guild Quest Board was crowded, as always.
Wooden planks lined the wall, pinned with parchment sheets ranging from local errands to monster extermination notices. Today, most of them shared a single word written across the top in bold black ink.
GOBLIN SIGHTINGS – EASTERN REGION
Red scanned them one by one. Ten separate notices. Different clients. Slightly different locations. But all between 30 to 80 kilometers east of Silverhaven.
Villages, farms, forest trade routes, all reporting sightings, theft, and small attacks. Some were requests for extermination. Others were for scouting or patrol.
None of them were high-tier. But they could become problems if ignored.
He pulled it from the board.
A few rookies nearby flinched as they noticed.
Without a word, Red returned to the receptionist and placed the request down.
She glanced at it, then at him. "You're not going to take all ten again, are you?"
He said nothing.
She shook her head and stamped the form.