James entered the bustling hall, his eyes sweeping over the crowd of adventurers and mercenaries scattered throughout the room. The air was thick with tension, filled with the chatter of deals and the clink of weapons. These were not ordinary people; most of them were F-level or higher, and he could sense the presence of a few powerful F-level individuals standing out among the rest. It was the kind of place that would make anyone less experienced feel uneasy.
The girl beside him, trembling, grabbed onto the hem of his black robe, trying to disappear behind him. She was young, and her rank was only G-level, far too weak for this environment. The chaotic energy around them seemed to swallow her, making her instinctively fearful.
James glanced down at her, his expression softening for a moment before he turned his attention back to the room. He spotted a gruff adventurer nearby and reached out, catching the man's arm. "Do you know how we can get to the surface from here?" he asked, his tone calm but direct.
The adventurer frowned, clearly not in the mood to help. But his eyes lit up the moment James discreetly slid a small stack of red banknotes into his hand; old currency, but still valuable. The adventurer's irritation melted into a sly grin as he pocketed the money.
"Yeah, sure," the man said, pointing to a corner of the hall. "That's where you'll find the passage back to the surface. This whole Mercenary Association was built around it. Safe enough, though..." He leaned in closer, lowering his voice. "It'll cost you. Prices are sky-high."
James nodded, his mind already working through the next step. "Thanks," he said simply, pressing the remaining notes into the man's hand before pulling the girl with him towards the desk the adventurer had pointed out.
When they reached the front desk, the clerk behind it didn't even bother looking up. "Going back to the surface?" the clerk asked, his voice monotonous, clearly bored. "One spirit crystal per person."
James tapped the counter lightly, drawing the clerk's attention. "I need you to send her to the surface," he said, gesturing to the girl still clutching his robe.
The clerk's eyes widened in surprise as he gave the girl a once-over. A G-level heading back to the surface? That wasn't something you saw every day, especially not at such a steep cost. "Are you sure?" the clerk asked, his brow raised. "It's rare for someone to spend a spirit crystal on a low-level like her. You sure you've thought this through?"
James didn't flinch. "Yes. Do it."
The clerk shrugged and started processing the paperwork. After the formalities were completed, James turned to the girl. She looked up at him, biting her lip, her eyes wide with fear. Her hands clutched his robe so tightly that her knuckles turned white.
He knelt down slightly, gently prying her fingers from the fabric. "Listen," he said, his voice firm but kind, "this is as far as I can take you. From now on, you have to learn to survive on your own. You can't rely on others forever."
Her lip trembled, but she didn't argue. As he spoke, he subtly slipped a small spirit crystal into her hand, the cool stone hidden in her palm. "Keep this," he whispered. "It'll help. Try to survive. If luck's on our side, we'll meet again."
With a final pat on her head, he stood, his expression unreadable. Then, without another word, he turned and walked towards the task bar, his black robe swirling around him like the shadow of his departure. The girl watched him go, her eyes following him until he disappeared into the crowd.
As he approached the task bar, James rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Maybe the city defense mission would suit me," he muttered to himself. "Plenty of battles, and with any luck, it'll help me level up quickly."
His mind worked over the numbers. His growth value had surpassed 5,000, and his stored value was already maxed out. He needed something challenging, but not recklessly dangerous, and city defense seemed like the perfect fit.
At the task bar, a bored staff member extended his hand without even looking up. "Let me see your number plate," he said.
James handed over the metal plate, silently observing the staffer. Even the employees here seemed to lack significant power; none of them stronger than lower F-level.
"The city defense pays every five days," the staff member said, glancing at the plate. "Are you sure you want to take it?"
"Yes," James replied without hesitation.
The staff member handed the plate back along with a small notebook. "3106. Congratulations, you've accepted the mission of the city defense army. Here's your work location." He paused, his voice dropping to a more serious tone. "But be warned, there are frequent alien species attacks on the camp. Be prepared to die at any moment. You don't look particularly strong, so maybe it's best if you reconsider."
James's lips curled into a small, almost imperceptible smile. "Thank you for the warning," he said, his voice flat but confident.
Alien species attacks? That's exactly what he needed. It wasn't danger he feared; it was stagnation. If anything, he was worried the battles might not be challenging enough to push him further.
With that thought, he turned on his heel, ready to face whatever awaited him in the city defense mission. His growth wasn't just about surviving; it was about thriving in the chaos.
The staff member leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a more serious tone. "One last thing I need to remind you. The rewards for these missions are tied to the number plates, not individuals. In other words, don't trust your comrades too much. Loyalty isn't something you can count on in this line of work."
James raised an eyebrow at that, then nodded. "Understood. Thanks for the warning."
Seeing no further questions from him, the staff member continued, "Alright, if that's all, go get yourself ready. Make sure you're back here before six this evening. Someone will escort you to the camp, and the mission officially starts tomorrow morning."
With that, the staff member turned his attention back to his work, effectively dismissing James without another glance.
James took the hint and quietly left the hall. As he walked, he couldn't help but reflect on the staff member's words. He knew well enough that trust was a rare commodity, especially in a place like this. But still, the warning was a reminder of the ruthless nature of this world. 'I'm stronger than most at my level', he thought to himself. His scarecrow-like body gave him an edge over ordinary humans, but when compared to someone like Laura, he still had a long way to go.
He muttered under his breath, "I need to master more techniques... and mental disciplines. My raw power isn't enough. I need to be smarter, faster." His thoughts were racing as he wandered the streets near the Mercenary Association, where the hustle and bustle of commerce greeted him. This was where adventurers came to upgrade themselves; shops selling skills, weapons, energy enhancers, and rare elixirs lined the road.
It didn't take long for James to find what he was looking for. A bustling street full of stores appeared before him. "Weapons shop... spiritual medicine shop... ah, the Art Hall." He paused, reading the sign carefully. This seemed to be the place for acquiring new techniques.
Stepping inside, James expected rows of bookshelves filled with scrolls and grimoires, but the scene before him was surprisingly different. Instead of a traditional shop, it looked more like a cozy living room. A low table with an incense burner stood in the middle, filling the room with a calming fragrance. Sitting beside it was an old man, round sunglasses perched on his nose, slowly sipping tea as if he had all the time in the world. He looked more like a street fortune teller than someone running a magic shop.
As James entered, the old man seemed to notice him immediately. His head tilted forward, and a smile spread across his wrinkled face. His black sunglasses slipped down slightly, revealing a pair of striking light golden eyes.
"This is rare... quite rare," the old man said in a voice filled with curiosity, leaning forward to get a better look at James. His golden eyes sparkled as if he had just stumbled upon something precious.
James frowned. Something about the old man unsettled him. There was no detectable aura, no sign of strength or rank. He seemed like just an ordinary old man; yet, something felt off. A creeping sense of danger filled the air, making the hairs on the back of James's neck stand on end.
Without a word, James turned on his heel and headed for the door, determined to leave the shop as quickly as possible.
"Hey now, where are you going, customer?" the old man called out in a strangely cheerful tone. When James glanced back, his eyes widened in shock. The old man, who had been sitting calmly by the table, was now standing directly in front of him, smiling with unsettling warmth.
"Leaving so soon? Don't be afraid," the old man continued, rubbing his hands together as his golden eyes narrowed behind his sunglasses. "I, Mathew, am not a bad person. No need to be in such a hurry, eh?"
James's heart raced. He hadn't even seen the old man move. And when he tried to take another step back, he realized with alarm that the old man's withered hand was resting lightly on his shoulder, as if it had been there all along.
His instincts screamed at him, and in an instant, James leaped backward into the hall, summoning his weapon. With a swift motion, the Scythe of Death materialized in his hands, the dark, menacing blade gleaming as he brought it down toward the old man's arm.
The old man didn't flinch. Instead, he let out a low, amused chuckle. "Hehehe... I can sense it; your life force is... extraordinary," he said, his voice almost reverent. His skeletal hand slowly reached out toward the descending scythe, not with fear, but with fascination. "Stronger than twenty people of the same level. How, I wonder... how did you achieve this? Tell me, tell Matthew."
James gritted his teeth, muscles tense as he swung the scythe with all his might. Yet, as the old man's bony fingers closed around the blade, something unnerving happened; the weapon didn't cut through. Instead, it stopped, as if trapped in an invisible grip.
"I'm quite interested in you, boy," Matthew murmured, his voice filled with eerie excitement. His golden eyes gleamed with something deeper than curiosity; a hunger for knowledge, or perhaps something far more sinister.