I left the cottage at dawn, my worn boots scuffing softly against the dew-kissed grass. They were serviceable but ordinary – nothing like the academy-grade gear I knew I would need. The waking market of Oakhaven was already stirring, steam rising from bakeries as I made my way toward Old Man Hemlock's Beast Bounty stall, its counter stacked with an intimidating array of monster skulls and trophies from hunts I could only dream of undertaking.
The grizzled hunter squinted at my Moledile haul, his experienced eyes assessing the quality of each component. "F-Rank juvenile cores?" Hemlock lifted an iridescent orb to the morning light, examining its clarity. "Clean cuts. No stress fractures." The core made a soft clink as he set it down with the others. He then picked up a claw and tested its edge against a sharpening stone. Sparks flew from the contact. "Five silver per claw. Fourteen cores at seven makes..." His knotted fingers tapped on the wooden counter as he calculated. "Ninety-eight silver. Fourteen claws at five makes seventy. Total: one hundred sixty-eight silver."
I accepted the heavy pouch of coins, feeling their substantial weight in my palm. Professional hunters earn triple this weekly, I noted clinically, tucking the coins securely away. This was merely baseline funding for my ascent, the essential capital required to equip myself properly for the challenges ahead. Every coin represented a step closer to my goals.
As I moved through the bustling market, the distinctive lantern-oil perfume from the chandlery filled the air, and that's when they arrested my gaze: a pair of boots crafted from midnight leather and stitched with silver thread that seemed to swallow the light around them. I couldn't resist activating my [Appraisal] ability to understand their true nature.
[Windstrider Boots]
[Materials: Silverstrand Silk, D-Rank Stormjackal Core]
[Affinity: +10 SPD | +5 DEF]
Without hesitation, fifty silver changed hands. I sat on a nearby crate, immediately swapping my old boots for these new marvels before storing the worn pair in my [Inventory]. The vendor nodded with approval. "Stormjackal cores bond to the wearer. You'll feel mountain winds in your stride," he promised.
When I stood, the world snapped into hyperfocus around me. I noticed dust motes dancing in sunbeams with crystalline clarity, heard distant blacksmith clangs with sharp distinction, and observed the swish of a baker's flour-dusted apron with enhanced awareness. My steps became silent glides that parted the market crowd like water. I wasn't just walking on wind—I was becoming it. Remembering Elowen's preferences, I bought candied frost-berries—she savored their icy crunch—before turning homeward.
A desperate whimper cut through the market chatter. Human. Close.
In a cloth-dyer's alley where vats of indigo steamed like cauldrons, three leather-clad thugs circled a trembling boy. The leader, with a scar twisting his lip like melted wax, shook a stolen pouch violently. "Think you're clever skimming mill wages, rat?" Spittle flew from his mouth as he spoke. "Boss says you're ten coppers light. Where's the rest? Sewn in your rags?"
The boy pressed against a dripping wall, his eyes white-rimmed with terror. I assessed the scene instantly: leader (crude club), left thug (rusty knife), right thug (chipped dagger). Unprofessional but undoubtedly dangerous.
Before hesitation could form, I stepped into the alley's confined space. "Return that pouch," I commanded, my voice steady.
The leader turned slowly, his sneer widening at my youth. "Or what? Village pup gonna tickle us with his fancy footwarmers?" His cronies fanned out strategically, their blades flashing in the dim alley light. One deliberately scraped his steel against stone—creating a nerve-shredding screech meant to intimidate. "Your coin next, pretty boy. Make it quick. I wonder how much a drake will fetch these days."
A cold smirk touched my lips. I focused my will, and with a whisper of displaced air, my longsword materialized in my grip. Its terra-flame veins pulsed with crimson energy, casting hell-light on the stained walls around us. The pungent dye fumes seemed to recoil from the weapon's inherent heat.
"Why don't you try taking it?" I glided forward on my silent Windstriders. This wasn't a step—it was a predator's advance. The boots transformed the cluttered debris into an open arena, giving me perfect footing. I halted precisely beyond lunge range. Molten light from my blade reflected in my eyes. "Leave now," my voice vibrated with controlled power, "or I'll engrave my name on your bones."
The leader's sneer died instantly. He registered the military-grade steel, my perfect stance, the absolute absence of fear in my demeanor. This wasn't prey. This was apex. The pouch thudded on the wet stones as he dropped it.
"Pyre-touched freak..." the leader spat, already backing away. His cronies scrambled over each other like roaches fleeing light, their footsteps quickly fading into the market din.
I stored my sword, the alley returning to its previous gloom. I retrieved the pouch and pressed it into the boy's shaking hands. He flinched at first, then stared at the coins, then at me with disbelief. Tears cut clean tracks through the alley grime on his cheeks.
"Th-thank you, sir!" he gasped, clutching the pouch like a lifeline before darting into the safety of sunlight.
Warmth bloomed in my chest as the system chimed its approval:
[Quest Complete: Alley Guardian]
[Reward: 30 Aether Shards | +50 EXP]
[Aether Shards: 80]
[EXP: 170/150 → Level Up!]
[+1 Free Stat Point]
Level 3. I allocated the point to [STR], feeling raw power flood my limbs—coiled energy settling into dense muscle. I breathed deep, the alley's stench of urine and chemicals yielding to the frost-berries' icy sweetness waiting in my [Inventory].
I stepped back into sunlight. Market life surged around me, completely oblivious to the shadow-play that had just occurred. The Windstrider Boots hummed against the stone beneath my feet. Today, I'd faced beasts in two forms—scaled monsters that tested my blade and human monsters that measured my resolve. Against both, I'd stood unwavering. I hadn't just walked away stronger. I'd proven my path.