After hearing the words of the copper plated mercenary, thinking of what to say, I decided to try my luck.
I rubbed my ring with my thumb and materialized the knife. Its simple modern design spoke of utility over artistry. Holding it out for them to see, I admitted, "This is all I have."
The older mercenary exchanged a glance with his companion. "No sword, no bow? Just that?" There wasn't mockery in his voice, only a tempered curiosity.
"I've never had a reason to own anything else," I confessed. "But I can learn. If you teach me, I won't hold you back."
The older mercenary studied me for a moment, the firelight dancing in his sharp eyes. "We'll see. Tonight, we rest. Tomorrow morning, you'll show us what you can do. If you can't even hold your own against a simple trial, you're not coming with us."
"Fair enough," I replied, determination tightening my grip on the knife. I wasn't about to let this opportunity slip away.
The younger mercenary smirked. "Let's hope you're a quick learner. Otherwise, the monsters will do the teaching."
Their words weren't meant to comfort, but they stoked a fire in my chest. That's right, since an opportunity has come, I can't show my weakside to them. I hope the knife training navy seal videos I watched back home worked here.
"Alright now that it's sorted out, let's prepare to make dinner, I got news from the butcher that Waylan and that scarred man got us a pretty big boar" Said one of the villager working in the elder's kitchen
The elder, raising one of her eyebrows, looked toward the villager who had spoken. "A boar, you say?" she asked, her tone skeptical but intrigued. "How big are we talking?"
The villager grinned, clearly pleased with himself. "Big enough to feed us all, I'd wager. And still have leftovers for tomorrow. Waylan says it'll be a good feast."
"Well, then," the elder replied, her gaze sweeping over the group, "it seems we won't starve anytime soon." She turned her attention back to me, her expression thoughtful. "You might want to sharpen those skills of yours. A full belly might make it easier to face whatever trial the mercenaries have planned."
I nodded, though the knot in my stomach had little to do with hunger. Tonight, I'd rest. Tomorrow, I'd prove myself. No matter the cost.
The younger mercenary chuckled under his breath. "Better make sure you don't get distracted by the food. It won't do you any good if you can't stay sharp."
"Don't worry," I replied, flashing him a determined grin. "I've got this."
The elder nodded, clearly satisfied with my response then said "Since you decided on following them, why don't you go to the blacksmith to pick another weapon, you can ask the mercenaries to ask you how to use them tomorrow. Make sure to comeback before 7PM, else you will miss out the food.", and turned to help with the preparations. The rest of the villagers busied themselves as well.
The older mercenary, hearing the elder's words, said, "That's a good idea. I'll come with you to the smithy; I'll help you pick a good one."
If there is a good one, he thought quietly to himself.
I shot him a quick glance, a mixture of surprise and gratitude crossing my face. I hadn't expected him to offer help. "Thanks," I muttered.
He grunted in acknowledgment and stood up. "Let's get going, then."
When we reached the smithy, the blacksmith was hard at work, the sound of hammer striking metal ringing through the air.
"And who might ye two be?" the blacksmith grumbled, noticing our arrival. He was quite tall, his biceps and forearms the size of tree trunks.
"Big fella with a big sword and a scarred man... Ya here to pick a weapon?" he asked, not bothering to wait for an answer to his previous question.
"I'm one of the mercenaries that arrived today, helping him pick a weapon," the older mercenary replied, his tone less harsh than usual. "Something practical."
"I'm Azur," I said, stepping forward. "I've been recuperating at the elder's house after getting attacked by wolves in the Ancient Forest." I wasn't surprised he didn't know me. Blacksmiths in the fantasy novels I read back home always seemed to care little for what went on in the village. He was probably the same.
The blacksmith eyed me as he wiped his brow, his expression unreadable. "I see. Me daughter works in the kitchen—she told me about ye. I'm Gunter, anyway, practical, huh? Well, come take a look."
He gestured toward a rack of various weapons—swords, axes, and spears. I hesitated before stepping closer.
The spear leaned against the rack, unassuming yet commanding attention. Its wooden shaft was smooth and sturdy, polished to a dark sheen that hinted at countless hours of careful craftsmanship. The spearhead, forged from tempered steel, was leaf-shaped with sharp, clean edges that gleamed faintly in the light of the forge. A subtle engraving ran along the base of the blade, its pattern resembling flowing currents, as though the weapon itself could pierce through air and water with equal ease.
Though simple in design, the spear exuded balance and reliability, as if it were crafted with purpose rather than adornment. The weight felt just right in my hand—neither too heavy to wield nor too light to lack substance. Holding it, I couldn't shake the feeling that this weapon was waiting for me.
"Can I try this?" I asked, gripping the spear a little tighter as I turned to face the blacksmith.
The blacksmith's sharp eyes flicked to the weapon in my hand, then back to me. "A spear, eh?" he muttered, his voice gruff but not unkind. "Not a bad choice. Ye know how to use it?"
I hesitated before answering. "Not really. But... it feels right."
The older mercenary, who had been silently observing, crossed his arms. "Spear's not the easiest weapon for a beginner. You'll need proper footing and timing to make it work. But if you're willing to learn, it'll keep you alive longer than most others."
The blacksmith nodded in agreement. "Aye. It'll give you reach, at least. Go on, lad. Let's see if you can handle it."
He gestured toward an open area in the smithy, where scraps of wood and practice dummies were scattered.
I stepped into the space, spear in hand, my palms already slick with nervous sweat. The older mercenary leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching with a critical eye.
"Start with the basics," the blacksmith instructed. "Footwork first. You're not swingin' a club—you're keepin' your enemy at bay."
Awkwardly, I adjusted my stance and thrust the spear forward. It wobbled in my grip, the tip veering off course.
"Too stiff," the older mercenary barked. "Relax your arms. Let the spear do the work."
Gritting my teeth, I tried again, focusing on his advice. The spear struck the target with a dull thud—not perfect, but better.
The older mercenary nodded, his expression unreadable. "You'll survive. For now. Get some rest—you'll need it."
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
The blacksmith's words still rang in my ears as dawn broke. Yesterday's test had left me sore but alive—and now, with the spear strapped to my back, I felt a strange mix of pride and dread.
"Hey, rookie!" the younger mercenary called, tossing me a small leather pouch. I fumbled to catch it. "Rations. Don't eat them all at once, unless you fancy starving out there."
"Thanks," I replied, slipping the pouch into my satchel.
The older mercenary approached, his gaze sharp. "Don't just thank him—listen carefully. The Ancient Forest isn't forgiving, especially not to amateurs. Stick close and don't wander off. Got it?"
"Got it," I said firmly, gripping the spear.
The elder came over with a faint smile, handing me a neatly wrapped bundle. "This is from the villagers. It's not much, but it should help."
I hesitated before taking it, warmth creeping into my chest. "Thank you. I'll make sure it's not wasted."
Her expression softened. "Stay safe, Azur. We'll be waiting for your return."
As the group assembled, the younger mercenary stretched lazily. "You sure this kid's ready?"
The older mercenary shot him a look. "He passed my test. Now stop complaining and focus."
With a nod from the older mercenary, we set off, the villagers' murmured well-wishes fading behind us. The forest loomed ahead, its dense canopy swallowing the sunlight. My heart pounded in rhythm with my footsteps, the spear on my back a constant reminder of the challenge ahead.
This time, I wouldn't fail.
As the dense foliage drew nearer, the older mercenary finally broke the silence. "You passed my trial. Guess that means you deserve to know who's got your back."
He gestured to himself first. "Name's Garret. Silver-plated mercenary. I've been at this long enough to know better than to take chances."
The younger mercenary smirked, falling into stride beside me. "I'm Eryk, bronze-plated. Still moving up the ladder, but don't let that fool you—I can handle my own."
"Silver and bronze plates?" I repeated, confused. "Are those ranks? What do they mean?"
Garret glanced at me, his expression a mix of patience and mild amusement. "You're not from around here, are you, lad? Mercenaries are ranked based on skill and experience. Bronze is the starting point—new blood learning the ropes. Copper is for those with some experience, but not enough to stand out. Then comes Silver, for veterans who've proven themselves reliable."
Eryk chimed in with a grin. "After that, you've got Gold, Platinum, Mithril, Orichalcum, and Adamantite. Only a handful ever make it to the top. Those ranks are reserved for legends."
I nodded slowly, taking it in. "So… you're pretty high up there," I said to Garret.
He shrugged. "Enough to keep my head on my shoulders. That's all that matters. Now pay attention. This isn't the kind of forest where you can wander around without a plan."
As we stepped into the shaded expanse of the Ancient Forest, the atmosphere changed. The air was cooler, damp with the scent of moss and earth. Strange bird calls echoed through the canopy, and the occasional rustle of underbrush hinted at unseen creatures.
Garret crouched by a patch of thick ferns, motioning for us to do the same. "First, we gather what we need. This plant here"—he pointed to a cluster of purple flowers—"is called duskroot. Its scent can draw out certain monsters. If we're lucky, it'll save us the trouble of searching."
Eryk plucked a few with practiced ease, dropping them into a small pouch. "Duskroot's also good for masking our own scent. Monsters in these parts rely on smell as much as sight."
Garret moved to another spot, where broad-leafed plants with jagged edges grew. "And this one's ironleaf. Crush it and mix it with water—it'll harden your skin for a short time. Might save your life if things get rough."
I watched as they worked, marveling at their efficiency. They moved like this was second nature, and I realized just how much I had to learn.
Eryk handed me a pouch. "Here. Make yourself useful. Just don't touch anything without asking. Some of these plants bite back."
I hesitated but took the pouch, determined to prove I wasn't dead weight. "Got it."
As the minutes passed, I found myself engrossed in the task. The simple act of gathering plants, guided by their expertise, felt oddly grounding. For the first time, I felt like I was part of something bigger—a team preparing for a battle that would test us all.
Garret straightened, his gaze scanning the treetops. "That's enough for now. Keep your wits about you. The deeper we go, the less forgiving this place becomes."
With duskroot and ironleaf secured, we pressed further into the forest.
The forest grew quieter as we ventured deeper, the usual rustling of leaves and chirping of small creatures fading into an unnerving stillness. The ground beneath our boots turned damp and spongy, the scent of decaying vegetation heavier with every step. Garret's pace slowed as his eyes darted around, scanning the ground and the surrounding trees.
"There," he said, pointing to a patch of disturbed earth ahead. A jagged trail cut through the underbrush, the vegetation flattened and torn as though something massive had barreled through. Deep claw marks marred the trunks of nearby trees, and a faint, sour smell lingered in the air—a mix of rotting meat and ammonia.
I crouched beside the tracks, running my fingers over one of the claw marks. "This thing's big," I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Large enough to make you regret underestimating it," Garret replied grimly, kneeling to examine the trail more closely. "This is fresh. It's close."
As we followed the tracks, I recalled snippets of their earlier conversation—something about a noble being attacked. It hadn't made much sense to me then, but now, with the evidence of the creature's presence so tangible, I needed to know more.
"Why are we hunting this thing?" I asked, glancing at Garret. "I overheard you and the others mention a noble getting attacked, but this thing… you said it's territorial, not like something that goes looking for trouble."
Garret didn't answer immediately. He straightened, scanning the path ahead, before finally turning to face me. His expression was serious, his voice low.
"You're not wrong. This creature, known as a Volgrath, is highly territorial. Normally, it wouldn't stray far from its hunting grounds. But something drove it out—likely hunger or desperation. A Volgrath doesn't attack humans unless they've crossed into its domain or it's been provoked."
"Then why did it go after a noble?" I pressed. "What aren't you telling me? Is it confidental?"
Garret's brow furrowed, thinking, and for a moment, I thought he wouldn't answer. But then he sighed. "The noble it attacked wasn't some innocent traveler. He and his men were poaching rare beasts in the Volgrath's territory—hunting for profit, not survival. They likely stumbled onto its lair and killed its young."
The words hung in the air, heavy with implication.
"So we're cleaning up their mess?" I asked, unable to keep the bitterness from my voice.
"More or less," Garret replied. "But the Volgrath isn't innocent in this. It's gone feral. It's already killed three villagers near the forest's edge. If we don't stop it, it'll keep hunting anything that enters its path—man, woman, or child."
I nodded, the weight of the situation settling on my shoulders. "What exactly is this Volgrath? What are we dealing with?"
Garret's gaze darkened, his voice taking on a grave tone as he began to explain. "The Volgrath is a predator of the deep forests—massive, cunning, and built for ambushes. It has six limbs: four for running and climbing, and two tipped with hooked talons strong enough to pierce steel. Its hide is thick, almost like leather armor, and it blends into its surroundings with ease, making it nearly invisible in the underbrush.
"But what makes it truly dangerous is its venom. One scratch from its claws or bite will paralyze most creatures within minutes, leaving them helpless as it drags them back to its lair. The venom also acts as a preservative, keeping its prey alive but immobile for days. A slow death."
A shiver ran down my spine. This wasn't just a hunt; it was a battle for survival against something that sounded more like a nightmare than a living creature.
Damn, this isn't a beautiful fantasy world, I might be thrown into some dark fantasy world instead.
"Any weaknesses?" I asked, gripping my spear tighter.
Garret gave a small, grim smile. "Its hide is tough, but not invulnerable. Aim for the soft spots—its underbelly or behind its jaw. Fire agitates it, but it's also the best way to expose its weak points. And remember: once it starts to bleed, it'll fight harder, not weaker. A cornered Volgrath is deadlier than one on the hunt."
The trail led us to a clearing, the ground torn apart as if by a violent struggle. Scattered bones—deer, wolf, and something unrecognizably mangled—were strewn across the ground. Flies buzzed around them, and the air was thick with the stench of decay.
Garret motioned for us to stop, his hand raised in a silent command. His other hand rested on the hilt of his sword, his eyes scanning the perimeter.
"It's been here," he murmured, his voice barely audible. "Recently."
Eryk shifted uncomfortably, his usual bravado dimmed by the sight before us. "Are we sure this is a good idea? Maybe we could... I don't know, lure it further out?"
Garret shook his head. "This is where it feels strongest. If we don't face it here, it'll pick us off one by one the moment we turn our backs."
I gripped my spear tighter, trying to steady my breathing. My mind raced, imagining every possible way this could go horribly wrong. "What now?" I asked, forcing my voice to stay even.
Garret's eyes narrowed, scanning the trees. "Now we make our move. Eryk, lay the duskroot in a circle around the clearing. Azur, keep watch. If it's nearby, we'll know soon enough."
Eryk moved quickly, his hands deftly sprinkling the crushed purple flowers in a rough perimeter. I stayed near Garret, my eyes darting from shadow to shadow, the forest suddenly seeming much darker than before.
It didn't take long for the duskroot's effects to kick in. The air grew heavy with its sharp, earthy scent, carried on the breeze into the trees. For a moment, everything was still.
Then, a low growl rumbled through the clearing.
My heart leapt into my throat as the shadows shifted. Something massive moved between the trees, its outline barely visible—a hulking figure that blended seamlessly into the foliage. Two glowing, amber eyes fixed on us, unblinking and predatory.
"Stay calm," Garret whispered, drawing his sword. Its edge gleamed faintly in the dim light. "Wait for it to commit."
The Volgrath stepped into the clearing, its sheer size making my breath catch. It was larger than I'd imagined, its muscular frame rippling with every step. Six limbs moved with unnerving grace, its hooked talons carving shallow grooves into the earth. Its hide was mottled with earthy greens and browns, a natural camouflage that shimmered faintly in the shifting light.
But it was the eyes that held me frozen—intelligent and cold, calculating every move we might make.
Eryk cursed under his breath, fumbling for his weapon. "That thing's... that thing's bigger than the stories."
Garret didn't respond. His stance shifted, his weight balanced and ready. "Azur," he said, his voice calm but firm. "Circle wide. We need to flank it. Stay quiet, and don't run unless I tell you."
I swallowed hard, nodding even though he wasn't looking at me. My legs felt like lead as I began to move, skirting the edge of the clearing, my spear trembling slightly in my hands.
The Volgrath's head snapped in my direction, and I froze.
It growled again, a deep, guttural sound that sent chills down my spine. For a moment, I thought it would charge, but then Garret stepped forward, his blade raised.
"Come on, you bastard," he muttered, his tone almost inviting. "Let's see what you've got."
The Volgrath snarled, its amber eyes flicking between us, calculating its next move. It lunged, but Garret was already in motion, sidestepping with precision. His sword flashed as he swung in a wide arc, forcing the creature back.
"Eryk, set the traps!" Garret barked, his voice sharp and commanding.
Eryk moved with surprising agility, darting between the trees. He pulled small, jagged metal devices from his belt and planted them along the edges of the clearing. Each trap was simple—spring-loaded spikes designed to clamp down on anything unlucky enough to step into them.
"Keep it distracted!" Eryk called, already notching a bolt into his crossbow.
I expected something flashy, maybe a surge of magical energy or an explosion, but what followed was far from fantastical. Eryk's movements were methodical, every step deliberate as he climbed onto a low-hanging branch for better vantage. He loosed his first bolt, the projectile embedding itself into the Volgrath's shoulder.
The beast roared, but the damage seemed minimal. Then I remembered Garret's earlier words: Aim for the soft spots. Eryk wasn't trying to kill it outright—he was wearing it down.
As the Volgrath lunged toward Garret, Eryk fired again, this time aiming for the creature's hind leg. The bolt struck true, and the Volgrath stumbled slightly, its movements growing more sluggish.
"It's working!" I shouted, feeling a flicker of hope.
Garret didn't respond. His focus was unshakable as he parried another swipe of the Volgrath's talons. His broadsword moved with practiced ease, each swing forcing the creature to adjust its stance. Then, something changed.
Garret paused, his breathing steady as he raised his sword. A faint glow began to emanate from the blade, growing brighter with each passing second. The reddish hue turned into a blazing light, casting flickering shadows across the clearing.
"What the hell? That is different from mana." I muttered, my grip tightening on my spear.
Garret's eyes didn't leave the Volgrath as he took a step forward, his stance shifting into something almost ritualistic. He swung the sword in a wide, deliberate arc, the glowing edge cutting through the air like a blazing crescent.
The Volgrath roared as the strike connected, carving a deep gash along its side. The impact was forceful enough to drive the creature back several paces, its thick hide scorched where the blade had struck.
"Azur, get ready to strike when it's down!" Garret shouted, his voice carrying over the beast's furious growls.
Eryk, meanwhile, had switched tactics. With his crossbow now empty, he abandoned it in favor of a small pouch at his belt. He scattered a fine, powdery substance into the air—likely the crushed herbs they'd prepared earlier. The Volgrath recoiled, shaking its massive head as the irritant clung to its face and nostrils.
"You're not the only one with tricks, you overgrown lizard," Eryk muttered, pulling another bolt from his quiver and loading it swiftly.
He fired, the bolt finding its mark just below the creature's jaw. The Volgrath staggered, its limbs struggling against the growing effects of the paralytic herb.
"It's slowing down!" Eryk called, his voice tinged with both relief and urgency.
Garret didn't waste the opportunity. He charged, his sword glowing brighter as he performed a series of powerful, sweeping strikes. Each movement was precise, a blend of raw strength and honed technique. The Volgrath, for all its ferocity, was being driven back, its roars now tinged with desperation.
My heart pounded as I watched them work. This wasn't some fantastical display of magical prowess—it was raw skill, years of experience honed into a deadly art.
"Azur!" Garret barked again, his voice cutting through my thoughts. "Move!"
I snapped out of my daze, gripping my spear tightly. The Volgrath was weakening, its movements erratic as it struggled to keep up with Garret's relentless assault and Eryk's precision strikes. This was my chance.
I stepped forward, my focus narrowing on the creature's exposed underbelly, and prepared to strike.
My grip tightened on the spear as I closed my eyes for the briefest moment, drawing a shaky breath. When I opened them, the world seemed to shift.
A faint glow began to emanate from the spear, a soft blue light that grew brighter with each passing second. The glow spread, crawling up my arms and enveloping my body. My skin tingled, my senses sharpening to an almost unbearable degree. The air around me felt alive, every sound, every movement amplified.
Then my vision shifted—what had once been the clear blue of my eyes now burned with a faint, ethereal fire. The sensation was overwhelming yet exhilarating, as if my very essence had awakened. The world slowed, and the chaotic scene before me became sharp, almost frozen in time.
"Keen Observer," I murmured, activating the skill with a clarity that seemed foreign to me.
Everything fell into place—the position of Garret, the pattern of the Volgrath's movements, the subtle shifts in its stance. I could see its every weakness, every vulnerable point illuminated in my mind like a map.
I moved, my body responding with newfound precision. Each step felt deliberate, purposeful, yet impossibly fast. Garret's strikes, once a blur of practiced power, now seemed almost leisurely in comparison.
"Rookie?!" Eryk's voice barely reached me, but I could hear the surprise in it.
I closed the distance to the Volgrath in an instant, the glowing spear in my hands humming with energy. The creature snarled, sensing the danger, and swung one of its massive limbs in a desperate attempt to fend me off.
But I was faster.
I ducked beneath the swipe, the slowed world around me making its movements seem clumsy. With a single thrust, I drove the spear upward, straight into its exposed stomach.
The impact was explosive. The glowing tip of the spear pierced through the creature's thick hide like it was paper, releasing a shockwave of energy that rippled through its massive frame.
The Volgrath let out a guttural, earsplitting roar, its limbs flailing in a final, desperate attempt to retaliate. But it was already over. Blue energy radiated from the wound, spreading like wildfire as the creature's body convulsed.
I held firm, my entire body trembling as the energy coursing through me reached its peak. Then, with one final, agonized groan, the Volgrath collapsed, its enormous body hitting the ground with a resounding crash that shook the forest floor.
The glow around me began to fade, the ethereal fire in my eyes dimming back to their usual hue. My legs buckled slightly, the adrenaline that had fueled me draining away, leaving me standing unsteadily over the lifeless beast.
[Soul Essence Absorbed. +220exp] A voice of a machine like woman rang in my ears.
Garret approached cautiously, his broadsword still alight with its crimson glow, though his expression betrayed his astonishment. "What the hell was that?" he asked, his voice a mix of awe and suspicion.
Eryk climbed down from his perch, his eyes wide as he surveyed the scene. "You—" he started, but seemed to lose his words.
I didn't know how to answer. My grip on the spear loosened, and I exhaled shakily, trying to make sense of what had just happened.
As the adrenaline drained from my body, a wave of exhaustion hit me like a collapsing wall. My legs buckled, and I dropped to my knees, the spear slipping from my grip. I tried to push myself back up, but my limbs refused to respond, trembling uncontrollably.
"Rookie!" Eryk was the first to reach me, kneeling by my side. "What's wrong? You're pale as a ghost!"
Garret strode over, his sharp gaze scanning me with concern. "Kid, you overdid it. How the hell can you do something like that?"
I forced a weak smile, my breaths coming in shallow gasps. "It's… my family's… secret art," I managed to say, each word a struggle. My voice was hoarse, almost trembling. "Please… don't ask about it… anymore."
Garret's frown deepened, his lips pressing into a thin line. He studied me for a moment, then nodded. "Fine. Just rest. We'll handle the rest from here."
Eryk snorted, adjusting his dagger in its sheath. "Figures a rookie like you'd pull something like that and end up flat on your face. Can't even stand now, can you?" Despite the jab, his tone held an undercurrent of concern.
"I'm fine," I murmured weakly, though my body felt like it was weighed down with lead.
"Yeah, sure you are," Eryk muttered, crouching down beside me. "C'mon, Rookie. You're in no condition to move on your own."
Before I could protest, I felt his arms lifting me off the ground. My head lolled against his shoulder, my vision swimming.
"Take him back to the village," Garret instructed, already turning his attention to the Volgrath's corpse. "Get a carriage ready. We'll need it to bring the rest of this beast back."
"Got it," Eryk replied, adjusting me on his back as he stood. "Don't miss me alright, you got many friends here haha."
Garret didn't respond, already focused on the task of carving up the monster with the rest of the team. The sound of blades slicing through flesh and the occasional grunt of effort faded into the background as Eryk carried me away.
"You've got some explaining to do later, Rookie," Eryk muttered as he maneuvered through the trees. His steps were steady, his grip firm, but his voice held a mix of irritation and concern. "Don't think you can just brush this off as 'family secrets.'"
I didn't respond, my body too drained to even form a coherent thought. The faint light filtering through the forest canopy began to thin as we moved closer to its edge.
Eryk's muttering became a distant hum, his steady steps lulling me into a deep, dreamless sleep.