By the time Oliver reached the city gates, the sun was already dipping below the rooftops, painting the horizon orange and red. His clothes were stiff with dried blood, his arms and shoulders aching from every movement. He'd rinsed his face at the river before entering, but it didn't do much — he still looked like someone who had just crawled out of a battlefield.
When he entered the Adventurer's Guild, the usual chatter dulled for a moment. A few adventurers turned, saw the bloodstains, the dull eyes, then went back to their drinks. It wasn't the first time they'd seen someone return from hell.
Behind the counter, Lena looked up — her smile froze halfway when she saw him.
"Oliver… you look like death. What the hell happened out there? Did the help arrive late?"
"Mission Complete. That's what happened." Oliver said, "And I won't take measly few silver coins for the reward."
