Morning came with purpose.
Arman left the inn earlier than usual. The streets were already alive, though not yet chaotic. Merchants were setting up stalls. Guards changed shifts.
He walked toward the Adventurer Guild.
The building stood not far from the commercial square — wider and noisier than the Mage Association. A large wooden sign hung above the entrance, carved with crossed swords over a shield.
Voices echoed from inside.
Laughter.
Arguments.
The clink of armor.
Arman pushed the door open.
The difference was immediate.
If the Mage Association was structured and disciplined, the Adventurer Guild was raw and practical.
Long tables filled the hall. Adventurers in leather armor, chainmail, and travel cloaks occupied nearly every seat. Weapons leaned against walls. A large quest board covered one side of the room.
Behind a wide counter stood several clerks handling registrations and payments.
Arman approached the counter.
A young woman with tied-back hair glanced up.
"Registration?"
"Yes."
"First time?"
"Yes."
She held out her hand.
"Identification."
Arman slid his Mage Association ring into view and channeled a faint trace of mana.
His identity projection appeared briefly.
Arman — Rank 1Mage Association (Provisional)
The clerk nodded.
"That's fine. No registration fee required if you're already affiliated with the Association."
Good.
He had expected another expense.
She pulled a small metal plate from beneath the counter and slid it toward him.
"Guild ranks go from F to A," she explained. "F being the lowest, A being the highest active rank in this city."
"Active?" he asked.
"S-rank exists, but not here," she replied casually.
She continued.
"New adventurers start at Rank F. You may accept Rank F and Rank E quests."
She handed him a simple bronze badge engraved with the letter F.
"Promotion requires quest completion records and evaluation."
Structured.
Different system.
But similar logic.
He clipped the badge to his belt and turned toward the quest board.
Dozens of parchments were pinned there.
Lost livestock.Escort requests.Gathering herbs.Warehouse security.
Then he saw one.
Exterminate Goblins – Outskirts Forest
1 silver per goblin ear
Estimated small groups
Rank F / E
He tore the parchment down and returned to the counter.
"I'll take this."
The clerk scanned it briefly.
"Goblin extermination requires a minimum party of two."
Arman paused.
"Two?"
"Yes. Guild safety regulation. No solo Rank F extermination quests."
He looked around.
Most adventurers were already in groups.
Some clearly experienced.
Some laughing loudly.
He approached a table with two men sharpening blades.
"Interested in goblin extermination?" he asked.
They glanced at him, then at his badge.
"Rank F?" one scoffed lightly. "No thanks."
Another table.
No response.
Another.
Shakes of heads.
He felt a slight irritation rising.
He wasn't weak.
But he was new.
And unknown.
He was about to give up for the morning—
When a calm voice spoke behind him.
"I'll join."
Arman turned.
The black robe.
The same man from last night.
Above his head—
The name and level were still faintly visible to Arman alone.
Altair Everett.
Level 10.
Arman kept his expression steady.
Altair's appearance was different in daylight — black clothing fitted for mobility, not ceremonial. No staff. No visible heavy weapon.
Cold eyes.
Composed posture.
Not a wasted movement.
"You're taking the goblin quest?" Altair asked.
"Yes."
"I'll accompany you."
No explanation.
No small talk.
Just a statement.
The clerk glanced between them.
"Both of you sign here."
They did.
"Return with proof — goblin ears," she added flatly.
Altair turned immediately toward the exit.
Arman followed.
Outside, the morning air felt cooler than before.
He walked beside Altair in silence for a few steps before speaking.
"You were in the tavern last night."
"Yes."
Short answer.
"You're Rank F too?"
Altair glanced sideways briefly.
"For now."
For now.
Arman's mind lingered on the level above Altair's head.
Level 10.
Far above his own.
Yet officially—
Rank F.
Interesting.
As they walked toward the forest outskirts, Arman felt something unfamiliar.
Not fear.
Not tension.
But awareness.
This goblin hunt would not just be his first contract.
It would also be his first time fighting alongside someone—
Who might share the same secret.
The outskirts of Rostam were quieter than Arman expected.
The road slowly gave way to thinner paths and scattered trees. The forest ahead was not dense, but thick enough to conceal movement.
Altair walked ahead without speaking.
Light steps.
No wasted motion.
Arman adjusted the bronze F badge at his belt.
"Any experience with goblins?" he asked.
"Yes."
"How many?"
"Enough."
That was all.
Arman suppressed a sigh.
They stepped off the main road and entered the treeline.
The air grew cooler.
Damp.
Broken branches and scattered footprints marked the ground. Not human.
Small.
Irregular.
Arman crouched slightly.
"Tracks."
Altair nodded once.
"Three. Maybe four."
Arman focused inward.
Mana: 51 / 51 Control: 14%
Good.
This time—
No reckless Fireball.
He would choose properly.
A faint rustle came from the bushes ahead.
Then—
A shrill screech.
Three goblins burst from the undergrowth.
Short.
Green-skinned.
Jagged blades in their hands.
Their eyes were wild.
Their movements fast.
"Left," Altair said calmly.
Two rushed Arman.
One lunged toward Altair.
Arman's heart pounded.
Not panic.
Focus.
Single target.
Precision.
Refinement.
Heat.
Compression.
Stability.
Direction.
He extended his hand.
[Flame Bolt].
The construct formed faster than his old Fire Sphere. Smaller. Tighter.
He released.
The bolt struck the first goblin in the chest.
A sharp burst of flame.
The creature screamed and fell backward, armor smoking.
Mana: 46 / 51.
Less cost.
Noticeably less.
Good.
The second goblin was already close.
Too close for another clean bolt.
He shifted immediately.
[Mana Push]
He thrust his palm forward.
The invisible burst struck the goblin mid-charge.
It stumbled backward violently, losing balance.
That was enough.
Altair moved.
Arman barely saw it.
A blur.
A short blade flashing once.
The goblin's throat opened before it could recover.
It collapsed silently.
Arman's eyes widened slightly.
Efficient.
No wasted energy.
He turned toward the third goblin—
Just in time to see Altair step aside from its clumsy strike.
Altair didn't block.
Didn't clash blades.
He redirected.
A twist of movement.
A shadow-like step behind the goblin.
Another flash.
Done.
Three goblins.
Less than ten seconds.
Silence returned to the forest.
Arman lowered his hand slowly.
Mana: 44 / 51.
Two casts.
Minimal drain.
No headache.
No rebound.
He exhaled quietly.
"That's… better."
Altair wiped his blade clean on the goblin's ragged clothing.
They moved cautiously deeper into the forest.
Then—
A guttural snarl echoed from behind a fallen log.
A larger goblin emerged.
Broader shoulders.
Crude metal helmet.
A rusted cleaver in its hand.
Stronger variant.
It charged immediately.
Arman felt the difference.
Faster.
Heavier steps.
He considered Fireball—
Then dismissed it.
Single target.
Close range.
Wrong choice.
[Flame Bolt] again.
He cast.
The bolt struck the goblin's shoulder.
It staggered—
But did not fall.
Thicker hide.
Altair stepped forward.
But Arman raised a hand.
"Wait."
He shifted tactics.
[Mana Push]—
But stronger.
Compression slightly increased.
Release.
The force struck the goblin's knee mid-stride.
Its leg buckled.
It dropped forward.
Altair didn't hesitate.
A precise downward strike ended it instantly.
Silence.
Four goblins.
Arman's mana pulsed lightly.
Mana: 39 / 51.
Still safe.
He looked at Altair.
"You could have handled that alone."
"Yes."
"Then why join me?"
He paused.
Then added quietly,
"You feel… similar to me."
Arman's fingers tightened slightly around the goblin ear he had just cut.
"Similar?" he asked carefully.
Altair did not answer immediately.
Instead, he glanced around the forest, listening.
No movement.
No immediate threat.
"We should rest briefly," Altair said. "There may be another group nearby."
They moved a short distance to a fallen tree and sat.
The forest was quiet again.
Altair leaned back slightly, blade resting across his knees.
"You noticed something about me," he said.
It was not a question.
Arman's heart beat once, heavy.
"…Maybe."
Altair's gaze sharpened.
"Can you see it?"
Arman hesitated only a second.
"Yes."
Silence.
Then—
Altair exhaled softly.
"I thought so."
He lowered his voice.
"Are you from another world?"
The question struck directly.
No hesitation.
No metaphor.
Arman stared at him.
"…Yes."
Altair's expression did not change.
But something in his posture relaxed.
"I suspected," Altair said quietly. "No one else can see it."
"See what?"
"The name. The level."
Arman nodded slowly.
"So it's not just me."
"No."
Altair leaned forward slightly.
"I died," he said calmly. "Then I woke up here. With this… interface."
Arman felt a strange mixture of relief and unease.
"You too?"
"Yes."
For a moment, neither spoke.
The forest wind moved lightly through the leaves above them.
"How long?" Arman asked.
"Three years."
Arman blinked.
"Three—"
"I was an apprentice for two. Only recently became Rank One."
That explained it.
Level 10.
Three years.
"Does Level matter?" Arman asked.
Altair's eyes narrowed slightly.
"It matters."
"How?"
"It increases baseline capacity. Physical resilience. Mana density. Reaction speed."
Arman absorbed that.
"So Rank is the world's structure. Level is ours."
Altair nodded once.
"They overlap. But they are not the same."
Silence settled again.
Then Altair stood.
"Enough rest."
His tone shifted.
Professional.
"Another group is nearby."
They moved deeper into the forest.
This time, the sounds came first.
Rough chatter.
Crude laughter.
Five goblins gathered near a shallow cave entrance.
One carried a crude spear.
Another had a leather sling.
Arman felt the tension rise.
Five.
More than before.
He began forming a Flame Bolt—
But Altair raised a hand slightly.
"Watch."
Then he moved.
No fire.
No noise.
[Shadow Cloak].
Arman didn't see the activation.
But Altair's presence seemed to thin.
Dim.
Less defined.
He stepped forward—
And vanished into the tree line.
Not invisible.
But nearly.
The goblins continued arguing.
Unaware.
Altair appeared behind the sling goblin first.
One clean cut.
Before the body fell, he shifted again.
Enhanced Perception.
His movements were anticipatory—already stepping where the next threat would strike.
The spear goblin turned—
Too slow.
Altair's blade redirected the spear, then drove into its ribs.
[Agility Boost].
He moved faster than the goblins could react.
Arman saw it clearly now.
This wasn't brute strength.
It was optimization.
Positioning.
Precision.
A third goblin charged wildly.
Altair stepped aside—
[Weapon Form].
The short blade in his hand elongated briefly into a darker, sharper edge.
Shadow condensed around it.
One strike.
Clean.
The last two goblins panicked.
One ran.
Altair flicked his wrist.
A thin shadow-formed dagger shot forward and pierced the fleeing goblin's back.
The final one screamed and swung blindly.
Arman stepped in.
[Mana Push].
The goblin stumbled.
[Flame Bolt] followed immediately.
Impact.
Done.
Silence.
Five bodies.
Less than fifteen seconds.
Arman lowered his hand slowly.
Altair stood among the fallen, calm as ever.
Mana expenditure minimal.
Breathing steady.
That was Level 10.
Not overwhelming power.
Refined efficiency.
Controlled execution.
Altair wiped his blade.
"You learn fast," he said.
Arman glanced at him.
"You fight like someone who's done this a hundred times."
"Thousands," Altair replied flatly.
They began collecting goblin ears again.
Seven silver total now.
A decent start.
As they worked, Arman felt something subtle stir within him.
Not explosive.
Not dramatic.
But steady.
The path ahead was no longer solitary.
There was another like him.
From another world.
With experience.
And secrets.
Arman stood.
"Let's continue."
Altair nodded once.
The forest grew quieter as they moved deeper.
Too quiet.
Even the usual rustling of small animals had faded.
Altair raised a hand slightly.
"Stop."
Arman froze.
Ahead, through the trees—
Voices.
Low.
Rhythmic.
Not chaotic chatter.
Chanting.
They crouched behind thick brush and observed.
Two goblin groups stood near a shallow clearing.
Roughly eight of them.
And at the center—
A goblin wearing a skull-shaped headdress.
Bone charms dangled from its neck.
Crude symbols were drawn in mud around it.
The air felt… heavier.
"That one," Altair murmured. "Spellcaster."
A goblin shaman.
Arman focused.
The chanting intensified.
Dark greenish mist began forming around the ritual circle.
"Summoning?" Arman whispered.
"Buff or call," Altair replied calmly. "Either way, we stop it."
Eight goblins total.
One shaman.
This was no longer simple extermination.
Arman inhaled slowly.
Single target or AOE?
This time—
Area could be useful.
But risky.
Too many close together.
Too many variables.
Altair leaned closer.
"You disrupt the ritual. I handle the flanks."
Clear roles.
Arman nodded.
Refinement.
Heat.
Compression.
Stability.
Direction.
He formed not a Fireball—
But a slightly larger Flame Bolt.
Focused.
Sharper.
He stepped out from cover.
Release.
[Flame Bolt]
The bolt streaked forward and struck the ritual circle.
The mud symbols ignited violently.
The chanting broke.
The shaman shrieked.
The surrounding goblins turned instantly.
Altair moved.
Shadow Cloak.
He slipped to the left, cutting down the nearest goblin before it fully understood the threat.
Two goblins charged Arman.
[Mana Push].
He thrust both palms forward.
The force burst hit both mid-run.
One fell flat.
The other staggered sideways.
Arman followed immediately with another Flame Bolt.
Impact.
One down.
But the shaman raised its bone staff.
The air twisted.
A crude green projectile formed—
Compressed rot-like energy.
"Down!" Altair shouted.
Arman dropped just as the projectile shot past and struck a tree behind him.
The bark blackened and sizzled.
Spellcasting.
Real spellcasting.
The shaman began chanting again, faster now.
The remaining goblins surged forward wildly.
Altair cut one down mid-charge.
Another swung at him recklessly.
He parried, stepped inside its guard, and ended it with a short thrust.
Arman rose.
Mana: 32 / 51.
Still manageable.
The shaman lifted its staff again.
This time, green mist began spreading outward.
Area debuff?
Poison?
He couldn't let it finish.
"Cover me!" Arman called.
Altair didn't respond—
But three goblins fell within seconds.
Clear path.
Arman gathered mana.
Not full Fireball.
But wider than Flame Bolt.
Refinement.
Heat.
Compression.
Stability.
He shaped it tighter—
Then allowed slight expansion.
Release.
[Flame Bolt]
The projectile struck directly in front of the shaman.
It exploded outward in a contained burst.
Flame spread across the ritual circle.
The shaman screamed as fire engulfed its robes.
The green mist collapsed.
The remaining goblin attempted to flee.
Altair flicked his wrist.
A shadow blade formed briefly and pierced the creature's back.
Silence returned.
Smoke rose from the scorched earth.
Arman's breathing slowed.
Mana: 24 / 51.
Heavy cost.
But controlled.
No rebound.
No headache.
Altair stepped beside the charred remains of the shaman.
"Good choice."
"Thanks," Arman replied.
They stood quietly for a moment.
The ritual symbols on the ground were burned away.
The forest felt lighter now.
Arman looked at the shaman's skull headdress.
"Spellcasters exist even among goblins."
"Yes," Altair replied. "And stronger things exist beyond them."
Arman swallowed.
He could imagine.
They collected the ears.
As they turned back toward Rostam, Arman felt something shift internally.
Not dramatic.
Not explosive.
But steady.
He focused inward.
A faint warmth spread through his core.
Then—
A pulse.
Clear.
Defined.
≡ Notification ≡Level Increased
Arman stopped walking.
Altair glanced at him.
"You felt it?"
"Yes."
The warmth intensified briefly, then settled.
He called his status.
≡ Status ≡
Arman — Human — Level 2
Occupation: Mage
──────────────
HP: 115 / 115
Mana: 63 / 63
Stamina: 110 / 110
Mana Control: 16%
──────────────
Skills
Mana Perception Lv. 1
Spells
Minor Fire Sphere (Improvised)
Mana Push
Flame Bolt
──────────────
He exhaled slowly.
Mana had increased by twelve.
HP increased by fifteen.
Stamina slightly improved.
Control increased.
So Level did matter.
Not just cosmetic.
Real, measurable growth.
Altair observed him carefully.
"Level?" he asked.
"Two."
Altair nodded once.
"Good. Goblin hunts are efficient early."
"Do you level from kills only?" Arman asked.
"Mostly. Combat and survival pressure. Significant improvement. Near-death sometimes accelerates it."
Arman frowned slightly.
"I'd rather avoid the last one."
"Wise."
They continued walking.
As they neared the outskirts, Arman mentally counted.
Seventeen normal goblins.
One larger variant.
One shaman.
He glanced at Altair.
"Variants pay more?"
"Yes. Larger ones count double. Shamans count triple."
Arman nodded.
Back at the Guild, they placed the collected ears on the counter.
The clerk counted them carefully.
"Seventeen standard goblins. One large variant. One shaman."
She scribbled numbers into a ledger.
"Total payout: twenty-two silver."
She split the coins evenly.
"Eleven each."
Arman held the silver in his palm.
Eleven silver.
Combined with his remaining coins from before—
He now had twenty silver again.
Enough for 2 night at most.
He slipped the pouch back onto his belt.
First quest complete.
Level 2 achieved.
Income secured.
He glanced at Altair.
"This is efficient."
Altair's expression remained calm.
"It is the beginning."
And for the first time since arriving in this world—
Arman felt like he wasn't merely surviving.
He was progressing.