The creatures grew scarce as his tally reached forty, forcing him to move deeper into the forest's darker reaches.
The trees closed in around him, their branches twisting overhead like gnarled fingers, and the air grew cooler, carrying the faint scent of damp earth.
Yet, Reyn moved quietly, his footsteps light, his ears attuned to every rustle and hiss that broke the silence.
Finally, as the sun dipped low in the sky, he gathered his fiftieth fang. His arms trembled, his body exhausted from the relentless pace he had maintained, but the sense of accomplishment made it all worth it.
His bag was filled with fangs, each one proof of his hard work and resilience.
With a triumphant smile, Reyn turned and made his way back through the forest, his heart racing as he thought of Lirael's reaction.
»«»«»«
When Reyn finally returned to the edge of the forest, he found Lirael still waiting in the shaded spot by the trees, sharpening her sword with a calm, focused expression. As she looked up, her eyes flickered with mild surprise at the sight of him.
"Back already?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "Did you get cold feet?"
Reyn shook his head, a grin spreading across his face as he pulled the pouch from his belt and opened it. "Actually, I think I did all right." He tilted the pouch toward her, revealing the pile of fangs inside, each one glinting faintly in the fading light.
Lirael's eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise breaking through her usual stoicism. She reached out, taking one of the fangs and examining it closely before looking back at him. "Fifty?" she asked, her voice laced with incredulity.
Reyn nodded. "Fifty," he confirmed, his voice filled with pride.
Lirael studied him for a long moment, a look of genuine respect settling in her gaze. "I have to admit, I didn't think you'd go through with it," she said quietly. "But you did more than that. You went beyond what I expected."
Reyn shrugged, his face flushed with a mixture of exhaustion and pride. "You told me the guild values persistence. I wanted to show I'm serious about joining."
She nodded, tucking the fang back into the pouch. "You certainly did. Let's get back to town. Baren will want to hear about this."
As they began their walk back, the sun dipped low on the horizon, casting warm hues across the landscape. Reyn felt a deep sense of satisfaction, knowing he had impressed Lirael and completed the system's mission.
Ding!
[Mission Complete: Impress Lirael by slaying 50 Fanged Tail Wyrms!]
[Rewards: +20 ER, +10% Bond Progress with Lirael, +1 to all attributes]
The chime echoed in his mind, and he felt a surge of energy course through him, easing the weariness from his muscles and filling him with renewed strength.
"Don't slow me down. Hurry up!" Reyn heard Lirael's voice calling out to him and he snapped out of his seemingly lost gaze.
"Sorry, that was unintended." He replied, increasing his pacing to catch up with Lirael.
As they walked back, Reyn now walking side by side with, he couldn't help but smile, already anticipating the next challenge ahead.
The sky was painted with hues of pink and orange by the time Reyn and Lirael made their way back to town, the last rays of sunlight filtering through the trees.
The journey had been long, but Reyn felt lighter with each step, his exhaustion tempered by the pride that came with finishing his trial. Lirael walked beside him, and though her expression remained stoic, he could sense a subtle shift—a faint trace of approval.
"Surprised I made it out with all fifty fangs?" Reyn asked, glancing over at her.
She smirked, giving a faint nod. "More like stunned. I didn't expect you to get past the first ten, let alone fifty. You're either incredibly persistent or reckless."
Reyn chuckled. "A bit of both, I think."
By the time they reached town, night had fully set in, and the warm glow from the pub's windows was a welcome sight. As they stepped inside, the smell of roasting meat and fresh bread filled Reyn's senses, and he sighed with relief, his stomach growling in anticipation.
They made their way to the counter, where Baren was polishing a row of mugs, whistling softly to himself. He looked up as they approached, raising an eyebrow as Reyn slumped into a chair.
"Need a meal," Reyn said, the words coming out in a half-starved plea.
Baren chuckled, shaking his head. "So, did you bring back a fang, or are you just here to drown your sorrows in food?" He glanced at Lirael, misreading Reyn's exhaustion. "Kid couldn't handle it, huh?"
Lirael crossed her arms, a faint smile playing on her lips. "Oh, he handled it. In fact, he handled it better than either of us expected."
Baren's eyebrow shot up, and he turned to Reyn, his interest piqued. "Is that so? Well, let's see it then—the fang."
Reyn pulled a small pouch from his belt, its weight heavy with the spoils of his three-day hunt.
Without a word, he tossed the pouch onto the counter, and it landed with a solid thud. Baren's face twisted in confusion as he opened it, his eyes widening in shock as he tipped it over, spilling fifty gleaming fangs onto the counter.
For a moment, Baren was speechless, his gaze flickering from the fangs to Reyn and back again. "You… you actually took down fifty of these things?" he asked, voice filled with disbelief.
Reyn nodded, grinning. "Just thought I'd go above and beyond, you know?"
Baren's laughter filled the pub, rich and hearty, drawing the attention of a few patrons nearby. "Above and beyond, indeed," he said, giving Reyn a respectful nod. "Most recruits would be lucky to come back with even one fang. You've earned a feast tonight, kid."
Reyn's grin widened as he glanced at Lirael, who gave him a subtle nod of approval. For the first time, he felt as if he truly belonged—one step closer to joining the Iron Fang Guild.