A tall elf stood on the early morning sidewalk, the wind blowing at his chiseled face and gliding through his golden hair

Memories surged within him of a time when he was a hundred years younger on the campaign trail of adventuring.

The sun peeked out from behind the buildings, casting magnificent rays that danced upon the pavement, reminiscent of the late summer dune mountains in his dungeon diving youth.

a nip of chill coursing through the air, akin to the day he received his S Rank.

Lost in a swim of nostalgia, he dove deeper and deeper into an ocean of memories when he was abruptly pulled from the deep sea by the shouting of a dwarf in front of him

He was no longer in a dungeon but on a bustling sidewalk of a populated downtown. 

With a deep breath, he faced what was before him: a dwarf, scratchy-bearded, standing atop a stool behind a breakfast and coffee stand counter. Sneering at the elf, he regurgitated his words.

"Well? Are you going to taste it, leaf lover?! Give me a pass and push off."

Still sour about returning to reality, the elf reached out with his gloved left hand to grab a large, disposable hot coffee cup. Taking in the aroma, he felt the bite before carefully sipping. 

Not coffee, but brown sludged mana pulsed into his veins through the back of his throat. He nearly vomited the elixir up, only hunching over in disgust; he shook his head.

"Unh uh! Ratbeard, that's not coffee; that's a mana potion! How much pixie dust did you put in that? Enough mana shot through me to think I was chewing on a pixie's ass."

"A teaspoon, knife ear. You elves only know chewing bark and ass. This coffee sells; I use the legal limit," the dwarf retorted, using air quotes when saying "legal." The elf mirrored his gestures, speaking back.

"The legal limit is a teaspoon of pixie dust per batch, not per cup! Brew another batch, take it to the station, and tell them Alvis Winterson says you need it checked before selling again."

Alvis slammed the coffee down on the cart before wiping out a ticket pad and scribbling furiously while the dwarf, red-faced, launched insults at him. He tried to ignore the insults but paused the ticket to dive face-first into the dwarf's rampage.

POWERFUL DAYS HAVE MUNDANE BEGINNINGS

A crack of red lightning whipped from the sky into the ground a block away with such force that some in the street questioned, with genuine intent, if Zeus himself had thrown the bolt. 

It was only minutes later that their questions were answered. The bolt's origins were sinister, a darkness that, even from where Alvis stood, could be seen swirling into a sphere, engulfing buildings, color, and light as it spread to sky-touching size, creeping to a stop barely at the end of the sidewalk and street in front of him.

Alvis straightened up, grabbed the magic coffee he was ticketing and began walking towards the sphere, only to be stopped by the whipping strikes of purple lightning from the sphere hitting the street in random spots.

Every creature was silent, watching. Almost everyone, an adventurer in some capacity, knew to study the ground where the lightning hit. 

The first on the street to react was Alvis. He produced his badge from his tan trench coat, showed the crowd, and motioned for them to back away.The crowd, along with cars on the street, obliged, receding like a wave, save for a couple on the sidewalk.

 The pair that stayed was an orc man and a human woman in cautionary shock, not wanting to move for a purple bolt struck in front of them

The orc rushed, placing himself between the strike spot and his woman. For he noticed what Alvis did not do while managing the crowd.The scorched earth chipped away inward like a cracking egg.

 Below that crack was a figure that burst through the opening, clawing up like a freshly hatched chick.

Each of the dozen blast holes produced the exact figure rusted, fully armored skeletons with sword and shield, each skeleton's eyes springing to life with a purple flickering flame.

Alvis, chugging the overclocked coffee, weathered the surge of mana coursing through his body. He locked onto the orc, who had squared up with the dead man in front of him. 

The couple was teeth-gritting, arguing about how to retreat without a surprise attack, when the skeleton cocked its head and thrust its blade at the orc. The orc matched the attack's speed, raising his hands to block, crossing his forearms in an X.

The impact of the rusted blade reverberated a sound of metal clanging against stone. The orc activated the defense spell Stone Skin.

Despite being a B-level spell, the blade's tip drilled a crack in his arms. The wound further splintered when the undead knight applied more pressure to the crack, breaking into the flesh of the orc.

At the sound of crushed rock and the sight of blood dropping onto the sidewalk, the woman behind let out a loud shriek of rage combat, rolling onto the road and aiming an open hand at the monster, blasting it with a missle of concertante mana

The skeleton flew, landing on its back a few feet away from the couple. Both of them did not let their guard down, waiting for something to make its next move

The crack of bone joints filled the air as the skeleton rose to its feet like a puppet being strung up to act. It was seemingly unfazed by the women's blast. Once it was back in fighting position, it lunged at the woman with frightening speed

The orc, without pausing, dove to the woman with all his strength, cracking the ground below him, ready to take the full force of the hit. His lover screamed at him not to do it. both prepared for the impact 

 kaboom, a blast rang out. 

The skeleton's helm and skull were annihilated into smoke by a powerful spell. Its charging body toppled to the ground, sliding to the couple's feet. They both looked to see what had saved them

It was Alvis, holding a smoking gun, a standard-issue police pistol that fired condensed blasts of the holder's magic. 

The legion of skeletons, who did not move at first, all drew their arms and locked onto the elf encircling him, taking the opportunity to execute the civilians. 

"Everyone, leave now!" Alvis roared, causing panic to surge in the crowd. People rushed to flee, cars sped off, all abandoned the scene, and a couple.

 except for the coffee dwarf, leaped over his cart with an obvious potion in hand and darted to help them.

"I knew he was pushing more than just coff—" his mumble was interrupted by a strike from one of the skeletons, which he narrowly dodged. 

Drawing his weapon to the undead's chest, he unleashed a barrage of blasts that shredded the armor and bone into a massive crater in the monster's chest. 

Through the hole, his eyes locked onto the enemy advancing at powerful speeds towards him. Alvis readied himself for the first strike, beginning a dance of dodging and counter-shots after the group's first attack.

Each kill seemed to do nothing as more beasts poured from the pot marked earth when one fell, another replaced its fallen comrade in its chain of attacks.

Alivis's eyes turned from navy blue to almost aquamarine as his standard issue police system turned on by itself, sensing the stress of its host in this tense situation.

"Analyzing threat, establishing bestiary page," 

Alvis sneered that the police system was only good for police work, not for moments like this. Also, these particular beasts were not new to him. In fact, He knew exactly what these monsters were 

Cimmerian Sentry Soldiers, skeletons of royal soldiers morphed by dark sorcery to create powerful guardians. He also knew he would have to put his overcharged magic to use.

To any onlooker, the barrage of attacks from the legion was barely missing their marks on the elf, but Alvis's dodges were calculated a plan forming in his mind

A path of movement formed between the sentries, clumping them up. 

The legion clustered so tight that any missed strikes from them would hit one of their own.

Alvis silvered out of the cluster with enough speed the legions detected magic did not register his absence. This was his opportunity leaping upward, high into the sky. with help from the coffee

Alvis raised his left arm at the peak of his accent, his gloved hand balled into a fist, pointing to the crowd below. in his mind was a spell selection wheel he activated out of this well a spell called dragons breath.

as fast as the neurons could carry the information of the selected spell A powerful blue glow radiated from his left arm, morphing it into a very alive Red Dragon, from the shoulder of its neck to the fist of its head

The head growled, black smoke and flickering flames erupting from its mouth and nostrils, reacting to the beasts below him. While Alvis dropped, he remained calm to the increasing speed of his descent

Once, I saw the defined burnt eye sockets of the skeleton cluster that seemed frozen in place with no enemy to track. Alvis muttered out a command. Ignite 

There was no ferocious roar of the show from the Dragon's head, only a blast of intense fire incinerating the skeletons below, showering them in a majestic array of burning colors that danced on the searing metal of the sentries, oozing their melted armor and bone together for a freshly forged bone iron pedestal for Alvis to land on.

the power of the fire breath slowed his descent, allowing him to land on both feet with ease; the elf raised his arms, pistol in one hand and Dragon in the other, aiming the few sentry stragglers spawning from the holes 

Even with his display, worry and stress spread through him; wrong gear, not prepared, and wrong mindset plagued his mind. An S-rank adventure caught like this? Wrong place, wrong time. His success in this is up to fate.