The night forest was alive with sounds of boots trudging on dirt, the creak of wagons weighed with the Thornfield villagers' meager belongings, and the distant hoot of owls echoing through the branches. The army moved in rigid columns, their torches stretching like a fiery serpent winding westward. Children whimpered softly, their mothers shushing them as they walked.
Angela strode at the front, her massive frame illuminated in orange light. The greatsword lay against her shoulder, every step of hers steady, rhythmic. She looked like a war-god's statue come alive, armor glinting beneath soot and dried blood.
Selvara, in contrast, was never still. She moved ahead of the column, her lean figure weaving in and out of the tree line. Sometimes she vanished into shadow entirely, only to reappear minutes later, her estoc dripping with some beast's blood.
The villagers whispered among themselves.
"Did you see her? She killed it before I even saw what it was."
"The tall one too... the red-haired one. She cleaved the bear in two with one swing."
"They are definitely high ranking adventurers."
Roderick, riding near the rear, overheard. His voice was low, troubled. "They're not wrong. Those two… they are more than soldiers."
Captain Klein, riding beside him, kept his eyes fixed on the vanguard. "So long as they fight for us, I'll take it. But mark me, Roderick that men like Dell will see more than blades. They'll see trophies."
---
It happened again just past midnight.
The line of march halted as a half-dozen shadows moved between the trees. Wolves, gaunt and rabid-looking, circled the flanks, their eyes glowing in torchlight. Soldiers lowered spears, villagers gasped.
But before a single command could be given, Selvara blurred.
One heartbeat she was walking at Loid's side, silent as ever. The next, she was gone, a silver streak breaking through the darkness. Her estoc thrust once, twice, thrice three wolves collapsed before they even registered her. The fourth tried to leap aside, only for Selvara's zig-zag dash to reposition her midair. The Needlefang Estoc pierced its skull, snapping the distortion closed with a sound like shattering glass.
The final two wolves froze, ears flat. Then Angela stomped forward. Her Juggernaut's Rush cracked the ground beneath her boots, and the wolves had no chance to retreat. Her greatsword slammed in an arc, the force breaking their bodies in half.
The soldiers lowered their spears again, staring in silence.
A young recruit whispered, "We… didn't even lift a finger."
Selvara wiped her blade clean with deliberate calm, her silver eyes reflecting torchlight. Angela chuckled, slinging her sword back over her shoulder.
"Keep moving," she barked. "If beasts are this weak, then they're nothing but firewood on the road."
The column obeyed, quicker now, as if speed might catch them up to her words.
---
By dawn the next day, the forest finally thinned. The sound of rushing water greeted the weary, and beyond the last line of trees, the road opened. There, nestled against the foot of green hills, stood Deerfell.
The town walls rose stout and stone-built, banners fluttering lazily above its gates. Just beyond, a village sprawled across the fields, smoke curling from chimneys. Already, oxen pulled plows, and villagers moved about their morning chores.
The sight broke something in Thornfield's refugees. For the first time since their village burned, smiles cracked their faces. Children laughed, tugging at their mothers' hands. Old men wept quietly, bowing their heads in gratitude.
Viscount Dell rode to the gate, banners raised high, his voice booming with authority. "Thornfield's people come seeking haven! Open your gates!"
The guards, clad in simple leathers, quickly swung the doors wide. Deerfell's mayor, a round-bellied man with thin hair, hurried forward, bowing low to Dell and then to Captain Klein. "Welcome, welcome, my lord! We were told of the orc threat. We'll house who we can, and the rest" He gestured toward the village nearby. "will find labor. The fields are hungry for hands."
Relief swept through the Thornfield survivors. Within hours, families found work. Men were hired to cut timber, women to spin cloth or tend fields, children already running errands.
Loid watched it unfold, his hood low, his lips curved in something faintly resembling a smile. "At least they won't starve."
Angela glanced at him sideways. "You sound almost… relieved."
Selvara's voice was soft. "We did not bring them here to die. That matters."
Loid exhaled, then clapped his hands once. "Alright. Let's see what this town has to offer."
---
The Adventurer's Guild of Deerfell stood at the heart of town, a sturdy building of timber and stone. Its doors were carved with crossed swords and a coiled serpent, a sign recognized across kingdoms.
Loid's heart thumped as he stepped inside. Rows of wooden tables filled the hall, adventurers laughing, sharpening blades, counting coins. Quest boards lined the far wall, papers tacked in messy layers. Behind the counter stood uniformed receptionists, their badges polished bright.
Loid muttered to himself, "Finally. A guild."
But it wasn't him that drew eyes as he entered, it was Angela and Selvara.
The room fell into a hush as they strode in behind him.
Angela's sheer size, her crimson hair, and the aura of power she carried made men instinctively straighten in their seats. Selvara, tall and slim, with her long black hair and cold silver eyes, moved with the grace of a shadow. Her weapon, the Needlefang Estoc caught light unnaturally, that blood-red vein glowing faintly with every motion.
Whispers broke out immediately.
"Look at her sword…"
"That fucking height... who the hell are they?"
"Emerald mercenaries? No, higher…"
Loid ignored the chatter and approached the counter. The receptionist, a young woman with neat auburn hair, smiled professionally. "Welcome to the Deerfell Guild. Are you here to register?"
"Yes," Loid said without hesitation. He gestured to Angela and Selvara. "These two."
The receptionist's eyes widened as she took in the women. "Of course. May I ask their ranks?"
Loid blinked. "Ranks?"
Her lips quirked, and she reached under the counter, drawing out a glass sphere that shimmered faintly with inner light. "Please have them touch this. It will reveal their measured stats."
Angela shrugged, stepping forward first. She pressed her gauntleted palm against the sphere.
The glass glowed golden. Numbers shimmered inside:
[ Strength: 5 | Endurance: 3 | Agility: 4 | Spirit: 1 ]
Gasps erupted across the guild hall. One adventurer slammed his mug down. "Five in strength..."
The receptionist herself paled, quickly composing her face. "Incredible… truly."
Angela smirked, flexing her hand as she stepped back. "Next."
Selvara approached silently, her long fingers pressing the sphere.
This time, silver light flared.
[ Strength: 1 | Endurance: 4 | Agility: 5 | Spirit: 3 ]
The hall went deathly quiet.
The receptionist swallowed hard, then bowed slightly. "I… I will register them both as Emerald Rank. That is our fourth tier."
Loid raised an eyebrow. "Emerald, huh. How many are there above it?"
The receptionist hesitated, then replied, "Eight ranks in total. Bronze, Iron, Gold, Emerald, Diamond, Platinum, Mythril… and Adamantine at the top."
Loid whistled softly. "So Emerald's… pretty high up already?"
"Of course," the receptionist said quickly. "Few reach it. And with numbers like these, your companions will advance to Diamond soon enough."
Angela grinned, pleased. Selvara only inclined her head, calm as stone.
The receptionist hurriedly handed them two gleaming emerald badges. "You may now take Emerald quests. Please choose wisely."
---
Loid went straight to the board. He scanned dozens of parchments, monster hunts, escorts, bandit clear-outs. His eyes drifted toward the higher tiers, where rewards shone tempting.
Angela leaned over his shoulder, pointing. "That one. Fang Wolves. We could cull them before breakfast."
Selvara's gaze slid to another. "Stone Scuttlers. Dangerous shells, but manageable."
Loid sighed, rubbing his temple. "Both? Really?"
Angela smirked. "Why not?"
Selvara gave a single nod. "Faster if we split."
Loid muttered, "Of course it is…" and plucked both quest papers down.
When he returned them to the receptionist, she blinked in alarm. "Two at once? Are you certain? Failure carries penalties."
"We're certain," Loid said firmly.
She stamped them, still staring as though she couldn't believe it.
---
That afternoon, Loid slipped away into the market, counting coins in his palm. "Forty-five gold, five silver… let's see what Deerfell has to offer." He eyed stalls of bread, roasted meat, and fruit, his stomach grumbling despite exhaustion.
Meanwhile, Angela and Selvara moved through the forest outskirts.
Angela cracked her knuckles, her greatsword gleaming. "I'll take the crabs. You handle the wolves. Whoever finishes first comes to clean up the other."
Selvara's lips curved faintly, the closest she came to a smile. "Agreed."
In a heartbeat, they split, vanishing into opposite directions, the hunt beginning.
---
Far away, in a candlelit manor, Viscount Dell paced. His voice was low, directed to a shadowed figure kneeling before him.
"I want them watched. The leader most of all. A man who gives away weapons of that caliber yet carries none himself? He's hiding his strength. No one, no one is that generous without power to burn."
The shadow bowed. "As you command, my lord."
Dell's lips curled. "Find out exactly what he is. Before I decide how to take him."
The candles flickered, the night deepened, and somewhere in the forest, two hunters closed in on their prey.