The floor of the room felt solid, though age and the weight of time had left traces in the form of small cracks in several corners. The space was filled with objects that reflected the practicality and long history of The Wall. Tall, dust-covered bookshelves lined the walls, holding collections of ancient manuscripts, tactical records, and battle histories. In one corner, neatly stacked rolls of canvas contained mostly old maps and war strategies—outdated, yet still relevant to those who resided within these walls.
The flickering torchlight cast moving shadows on the wooden walls, which had begun to weaken with age. It was the only source of illumination in the dim room, adding to the somber atmosphere, as if reflecting the burdens of its occupant's thoughts. Outside, the heavy footsteps of Outcasts echoed as they prepared their gear or honed their combat skills. Occasionally, the clash of swords rang out, mingling with the cold wind slipping through small gaps in the walls.
Before long, the sound of a firm knock echoed against the wooden door. It creaked open slowly, revealing a senior Outcast with a strong, imposing stance. It was Alcard—his black hair fell in disarray, his crimson eyes sharp, and the long sword strapped to his back still wet with monster blood. The light armor he wore bore stains from battle, giving the impression that he had just returned from a high-risk mission.
Without preamble, Alcard tossed two large sacks onto the wooden table at the center of the room. They landed with a heavy thud, breaking the silence. From inside, the contents spilled slightly—pieces of flowers and roots—Folwestian Bloom and Rotrofila Root, the primary ingredients for crafting Bloody Potion. The distinct aroma of wild plants filled the room, mixing with the lingering scent of monster blood clinging to Alcard.
Oldman, seated in a simple wooden chair, let out a long sigh before locking eyes with Alcard, his gaze serious.
"What's the situation out there?" he asked, his voice deep and authoritative.
Alcard responded in a flat tone, without hesitation.
"The southern forest is growing more dangerous. Mutant monsters are increasing in number. We had to fight two ogres while harvesting the Folwestian Bloom, and mutated goblins attacked us before we could finish collecting the Rotrofila Root. They're more aggressive than usual."
Oldman listened attentively, glancing at the sacks on the table and briefly inspecting their contents. His expression reflected both relief and concern. After a moment of silence, he asked,
"Any casualties?"
"No," Alcard answered curtly, his voice remaining neutral.
"Good work," Oldman praised, though without excessive emotion. However, he quickly followed up,
"But I can't give you much time to rest. There's a new mission that requires your immediate attention."
Alcard furrowed his brow slightly but remained silent, waiting for further explanation. Oldman took a deep breath before getting straight to the point.
"A Cyclops has appeared in a southwestern village near the western outpost. The local Lord is offering five bags of gold coins to get rid of it. But as usual, no one is crazy enough to take the job—except us, the Outcasts."
Hearing this, Alcard raised an eyebrow.
"Five bags of gold? That's a high offer. But why would a Cyclops be this far from its habitat in the southern forests?"
Oldman let out a small scoff, his tone laced with doubt.
"Who knows what's driving them out of their territory? But this isn't about why—it's about when we act. I want you to handle this alone. You prefer it that way, don't you?"
Alcard fell silent for a moment, considering. Solo missions granted him the freedom to act without restrictions or oversight. After a few seconds, he gave a slow nod.
"Fine. I'll take it. When do I leave?"
Oldman crossed his arms over his chest, his expression showing that he had already weighed the risks.
"As soon as possible. The longer it's left alone, the more chaos the Cyclops will cause. And remember, avoid any unnecessary complications."
Alcard smirked slightly, as if amused by the all-too-familiar warning.
"I'll get ready. But first, I need to clean off this monster blood." He gestured to the grime on his armor.
Oldman returned a faint smile before settling back into his chair.
"Be careful out there, Alcard. The outside world is crueler than it seems."
Alcard gave a light nod before turning to leave the room. His mind was already occupied with the upcoming mission—one that, like all things at The Wall, would likely be far more complicated than it seemed.
****