The sun hung lazily in the sky, its golden light spilling over the cobblestone streets of the city. The air buzzed with the usual chatter of merchants peddling their wares, adventurers boasting about their latest hunts, and the occasional bard trying—unsuccessfully—to attract an audience.
Among the lively crowd, one young man trudged through the streets, shoulders slumped, eyes distant, and a tattered cloak draped over his back.
Reed.
For four long years, he had chased the dream of becoming an adventurer, fighting tooth and nail to climb the ranks, to one day be recognized as a hero like the ones in the stories he had heard as a child.
Reality, however, had other plans.
Unlike the chosen ones blessed with godlike talents or the reincarnators armed with absurd cheat skills, Reed was just... normal. No magic. No hidden power. No legendary bloodline waiting to awaken. His swordsmanship? Average at best. His luck? Abysmal. The weakest in the guild, stuck at F-rank since the day he signed up at sixteen.
He had given it everything—years of sweat, blood, and effort.
And after all that?
His final job as an adventurer… was gathering weeds.
He crouched by the roadside, plucking herbs from the dirt with a sigh. A particularly stubborn root refused to budge, so he yanked harder—only for it to snap in half, sending him tumbling backward into a bush.
"...Why am I like this?" he muttered, rubbing his sore backside.
The job was a simple herb collection quest, the kind of thing thrown at beginner adventurers who could barely swing a wooden sword. A task so menial that even children helping their parents in the countryside could do it.
Four years ago, he would have scoffed at the idea of accepting such a lowly quest.
Now? He just wanted to eat tonight.
His stomach growled in agreement.
Reed sighed, gathering the last of the herbs and stuffing them into his pouch. He'd turn in the request, grab his payment, and then...
Well.
That was the end of it.
His final job. His last day.
After four years of struggling, failing, and scraping by, he had finally decided to quit adventuring for good.
He cast one last look at the quest form in his hands, the guild's stamp pressed onto the parchment.
He had once dreamed of seeing his name on the hero registry. Of earning titles like "Dragon Slayer" or "Demon Lord's Bane."
Instead, the only thing next to his name was a payment note:
"Completion of Herb Collection. Reward: 6 Silver Coins."
A bitter chuckle slipped past his lips.
"Guess that's my legacy, huh?"
Tucking the form into his pocket, he stood, dusted himself off, and started toward the guild—toward the final chapter of his failed adventure.
---
The familiar wooden doors of the adventurer's guild creaked open as Reed stepped inside, the scent of ale, sweat, and burning firewood filling his nose.
The guild hall was as lively as ever—rowdy adventurers huddled around tables, boasting about their latest victories, while others examined the quest board in search of their next payday. A few newcomers, still bright-eyed and full of hope, eagerly listened to the veterans' exaggerated stories.
Reed had once stood among them, hanging onto every word, imagining himself as a future legend.
Now, he was just here to turn in a handful of weeds and walk away forever.
A familiar voice called out from behind the counter.
"Well, well, if it isn't Reed, our legendary F-rank adventurer. Back from another world-saving quest, are we?"
Reed sighed.
Behind the counter stood Garron, the guild's receptionist and part-time bartender. A burly man with a thick gray beard and a permanent look of amusement, he had seen far too many wannabe adventurers crash and burn over the years.
"Yeah, yeah," Reed muttered, pulling out the herb pouch and placing it on the counter. "Six silver, right?"
Garron smirked, opening the bag and inspecting the contents.
"Looks like good quality," he said. "You sure you wanna retire? With talent like this, you could have a bright future as an F-rank herbalist."
A few chuckles erupted from nearby adventurers who overheard.
Reed rolled his eyes. "I'd rather eat my own boots."
Garron laughed, tossing him the six silver coins before pulling out a parchment. "Alright then, I take it you're here to file for retirement?"
Reed hesitated for a split second.
Even though he had made up his mind, actually saying it felt strangely… heavy.
Once he submitted the paperwork, that was it. No more adventuring. No more quests, no more swinging a sword, no more late nights drinking in the guild hall, listening to stories he'd never be part of.
He took a breath.
"…Yeah."
Garron's smirk softened slightly, and for a brief moment, the teasing faded.
"You sure, kid?"
Reed nodded. "Four years, Garron. Four years, and I couldn't even break out of F-rank. It's time to face reality."
The older man studied him for a moment before sighing. "Well, can't say I didn't see it coming."
He reached under the counter, pulling out a form and sliding it across the wood.
"Fill this out. Once it's official, you'll be off the registry."
Reed grabbed the quill and began scribbling.
As he signed his name, he overheard a few adventurers murmuring nearby.
"Damn, I owe Greg ten silver."
"Tch. Thought he'd last at least five years before calling it quits."
"Guess some people just aren't meant for this life."
Reed ignored them.
It wasn't like he could argue.
Once he finished, he handed the parchment back.
"Done."
Garron looked over the form, gave a nod, then stamped it with the official guild seal.
And just like that, Reed was no longer an adventurer.
The sound of the stamp echoed louder in his head than it should have.
Garron leaned forward, resting his arms on the counter. "Look, kid. I know you don't wanna hear this, but you've been here long enough to know the guild doesn't just need warriors. We need trainers, strategists, support staff. You've got knowledge—even if you weren't strong yourself, you helped plenty of others."
Reed frowned. "Not interested in being a glorified desk worker."
The older man sighed. "Figured you'd say that."
He slid a small cloth pouch across the counter.
"Take this. Consider it a parting gift."
Reed raised an eyebrow and opened it—inside were a few extra silver coins.
"…You do know I can't even afford a room at the inn with this, right?"
Garron smirked. "Then don't waste it on booze. Go home, kid. Get some rest."
Reed let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head as he pocketed the coins.
"…Thanks, Garron."
With that, he turned toward the door, stepping out of the guild for the last time.
He didn't look back.
---
The earth shook beneath her feet as she stood on the battlefield, surrounded by the smoldering remains of a ruined fortress. The sky burned crimson, thick plumes of smoke twisting into the air as dying embers danced around her.
Leona exhaled, rolling her shoulders as she cracked her knuckles. Her muscles ached, sweat dripped from her brow, and her body was covered in cuts and bruises. But none of that mattered.
Because she had won.
Before her lay the twisted corpse of a Demon Warlord, one of the last remnants of the Abyssal Legion. Its once-imposing armor was shattered, and its massive clawed hands twitched weakly as its body disintegrated into black dust.
"Tch." Leona wiped her mouth, spitting out a bit of blood.
She had fought dozens of battles before, but this one had been different. Stronger opponent. Deadlier stakes. And yet, somehow—
A small, cocky smirk pulled at her lips.
She had never been more in control.
Her golden eyes flickered toward her fists, still smoking from the final blow she had landed—a technique she had only recently mastered.
She tightened her grip, feeling the power behind it.
For the first time in years, she finally understood.
"Dragonkin strength isn't just about brute force, you know."
A voice echoed in her mind—one from long ago.
"Your body's tougher than a normal human's, yeah? That means you've got natural armor. And armor doesn't dodge—it blocks. Just take the hit, counter, and break their stance in one move."
It had been such stupidly simple advice.
But it had changed everything.
She never used to fight like this. She had relied purely on instinct and brute force, throwing herself at enemies like a reckless berserker. But one idiot's words had stuck with her.
One idiot had helped her refine her strength.
The weakest adventurer in the guild.
"…Damn it," she muttered, running a hand through her sweat-drenched hair.
She had no idea where he was now. She had been so caught up in her own journey that she never once thought to check in on him.
But when she got back to the guild, she'd—
Her smirk froze.
A strange uneasy feeling crept up her spine.
Something was… wrong.
Ignoring her exhaustion, she turned on her heel and sprinted toward the transport crystal that would take her back to the capital.
She had a bad feeling.
A very, very bad feeling.
The moment she stepped into the guild, the uneasy feeling turned into outright dread.
Something was off.
The usual rowdy noise was still there—adventurers drinking, laughing, boasting about their victories—but there was an odd tension in the air, like something important had just happened.
She stomped toward the counter, ignoring the curious glances thrown her way.
The Guild Master, a grizzled beastkin with a thick mane of gray fur, barely spared her a glance as he shuffled through paperwork.
"Oi, old man," she said, crossing her arms. "Where's Reed?"
The Guild Master didn't respond immediately. Instead, he let out a long, slow sigh and placed his quill down.
"…Ah," he muttered. "So you just found out."
Leona's brow twitched. "What do you mean?"
The Guild Master exhaled, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
"He's gone, Leona."
Her expression darkened. "Gone?"
"Retired," the old man clarified. "Handed in his papers. Packed up. Left the city this morning."
Silence.
A single second passed.
Then—
"…He did WHAT?!"
The entire guild hall trembled from the sheer force of her voice.
Several lower-ranked adventurers flinched, while a few unfortunate souls near her table fell off their chairs.
Leona's mind reeled.
That didn't make sense.
That wasn't how this was supposed to go.
He was always supposed to be there—standing on the sidelines, giving stupid advice, nodding in approval every time she figured out a new move.
And now she was supposed to believe that he just quit?
Like hell.
Leona slammed her fist against the counter, the wood cracking under her strength.
"Where did he go?" she demanded.
The Guild Master sighed. "Back to his hometown. Some quiet village out in the countryside."
Leona's eyes narrowed.
She didn't know why—didn't know when it had started—but there was a burning sensation in her chest. A feeling she had never properly put into words.
But she knew one thing for certain.
She wasn't letting him walk away that easily.
With a sharp turn, she stormed toward the exit, fists clenched.
There was one person in this world who didn't get to disappear without telling her.
And she was going to find him.
---
Deep beneath the capital's grand library, in a hidden chamber of arcane knowledge, Elena the Archmage floated several feet above the ground, her golden hair shimmering as mana storms raged around her.
This was it.
The culmination of her genius.
A spell so complex, so world-altering, that even the most esteemed archmages of history had failed to comprehend it.
Her Hyperdimensional Arcane Singularity—a technique that could compress pure mana into a gravitational well, effectively rewriting the very laws of physics.
And she had done it.
She had surpassed them all.
Her lips curled in absolute triumph as she held the completed spell in her palm—a sphere of unstable mana, glowing with infinite potential.
She was, without a doubt, a once-in-a-millennium prodigy.
"Pfft, and they said I needed 'more experience' before attempting this?" she muttered, rolling her eyes. "Pathetic. Talent is all that matters in the end."
Still floating midair, she tossed the unstable singularity from hand to hand, smirking to herself.
This was worthy of celebration.
And there was only one person she wanted to rub it in the face of.
Reed.
A familiar, lazy F-rank nobody, but one of the only people who ever bothered to keep up with her ramblings about magic.
He wasn't talented. He wasn't strong. He wasn't even worth a footnote in history.
But…
She paused for a split second.
He was the only person she had ever met who actually understood her.
Not through skill. Not through firsthand experience.
But through observation, theory, and sheer knowledge.
For some infuriating reason, he always figured things out, even before she did.
He was supposed to be a talentless nobody, and yet—
"Mana conversion is just like making tea. You're overcomplicating it."
"Your formulas are insane, but have you tried simplifying the base structure?"
"Honestly, I don't even think you need a chant for this spell. Your magic flow is stable enough to cast it instantly."
Tch.
Annoying.
Infuriating.
…And always right.
Elena clicked her tongue and dispelled the singularity with a flick of her fingers.
She'd go to the guild, throw her success in his face, watch him make that stupid dumbfounded expression, and enjoy the rare moment where she got to be right about something before he did.
---
She teleported instantly, golden magic flaring around her as she materialized inside the adventurer's guild with dramatic flair.
The room fell silent for a brief moment—adventurers instinctively backing away, well aware that an annoyed Elena was a destructive force of nature.
She strode confidently toward the Guild Master's desk, a smug smirk on her face.
The massive beastkin behind the counter barely spared her a glance, his thick gray mane shifting slightly as he continued scribbling on paperwork with a clawed hand.
"Elena," he grunted, not looking up. "Don't break anything."
She ignored the warning, leaning against the counter with exaggerated smugness.
"Oi, old man," she said, planting a hand on her hip. "Where's Reed?"
This time, the Guild Master's pen stopped mid-stroke.
A long, deep sigh rumbled in his throat before he slowly lifted his gaze.
"Ah." His golden beastkin eyes studied her carefully, as if debating whether he even wanted to say it.
Elena frowned. "What? What's with that look?"
"…So you're here for that too, huh?"
Elena's eye twitched. "What the hell does that mean?"
The Guild Master exhaled slowly, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
"He's gone."
Elena blinked. "…Gone?"
"Retired," the old beastkin clarified. "Handed in his papers. Packed up. Left the city this morning."
A long silence.
Elena's face remained blank for exactly three seconds.
Then, slowly, she tilted her head.
Her golden hair swayed slightly as her aura pulsed, the air around her distorting like the calm before an explosion.
"…You're joking."
The Guild Master shuffled his paperwork, not meeting her gaze. "Nope."
"You're telling me," she said slowly, "that the F-rank idiot I was just about to obliterate in an argument over magic theory is gone?"
"Yep."
The air shook violently as an enormous surge of mana rippled outward.
Several lower-ranked adventurers fled the building immediately.
The Guild Master sighed and casually reinforced the walls with an anti-explosion barrier.
"Elena, don't—"
The guild hall exploded.
---
When the smoke cleared, Elena stood amidst the destruction, fuming, her golden hair slightly singed from her own explosion.
"Unbelievable," she muttered, storming back to the counter. "He seriously just left? Without saying anything?"
The Guild Master, unfazed, rested his massive clawed hands on the counter, his tail flicking lazily.
"Brookstead. That's where he's headed," he said in a bored tone.
Elena's grip on her staff tightened.
That idiot.
That absolute idiot.
She had so much left to prove.
She was supposed to come back, argue with him, rub her victories in his face, hear him correct her, call him an idiot, and then pretend she hadn't just gotten a useful idea from his stupidly accurate theories.
She had never once doubted that he'd still be here when she returned.
But now he was gone?
Elena turned on her heel.
Her mind was already made up.
She had one thing left to say to him.
And she was going to say it to his face.
With a dramatic flourish of her crimson robes, she teleported out of the guild.
The Guild Master sighed, watching the faint golden glow of her teleportation spell fade.
"…That poor bastard is in for a rude awakening."
---
Moonlight bathed the rooftops of the noble district, casting long silver shadows over the lavish manors below. The city was quiet, save for the occasional click of guards' boots patrolling the cobblestone streets.
But in the darkness, something else moved.
A shadow flickered across the rooftops, darting effortlessly between buildings. Silent. Invisible. Untouchable.
Mielle.
The Phantom Fox.
Her fluffy orange tail twitched as she crouched at the edge of a high balcony, her sharp golden eyes scanning the extravagant study inside. The noble who owned this mansion was a particularly arrogant fool, flaunting his wealth in public while hoarding even rarer treasures in private.
And Mielle?
Well, she just couldn't let something like that slide.
She slipped into the study without a sound, her keen ears picking up the slow, steady breathing of the noble sleeping in the next room.
"Hah… too easy," she whispered, her lips curling into a mischievous grin.
A glass case sat atop the center desk, containing a mythril-etched dagger—a blade said to have been blessed by the spirits themselves. A rare artifact. Probably worth a king's ransom.
And tonight, it would belong to her.
With practiced ease, Mielle produced a small thin dagger from her sleeve, sliding it along the case's edges. Within seconds, the lock clicked open.
She reached forward—
And then stopped.
A folded letter sat beside the dagger, bearing the official guild seal.
…That was odd.
Nobles didn't usually keep adventurer guild letters with their valuables.
Curious, she plucked the letter from the desk, flipping it open with a flick of her wrist.
Her eyes scanned the contents.
And froze.
Her tail stopped moving.
Her ears stiffened.
The grin vanished from her face.
She read the letter again.
And again.
And one last time—just to be absolutely sure she wasn't hallucinating.
Then, with the sheer weight of her shock, she muttered a single word:
"…WHAT?"
A loud THUD echoed through the room as she accidentally dropped the mythril dagger back into the case.
She barely noticed.
Her mind was too busy short-circuiting.
Reed.
Retired?
That didn't make sense.
That wasn't possible.
That WASN'T ALLOWED.
She had spent years playing with him. Years watching him suffer and complain and be hilariously miserable while struggling at F-rank.
It was fun.
It was her favorite pastime.
And now he was just gone?!
Her golden eyes twitched.
A slow rage began to bubble inside her chest.
"That little… smug… selfish… bastard," she hissed under her breath.
She slammed the letter onto the desk and turned sharply, heading straight for the balcony.
Then—
"Who's there?!"
A deep voice rang out from behind the study door.
Mielle blinked.
Ah.
Right.
She'd just shouted loud enough to wake the entire mansion.
A second later, the door slammed open, and a heavily armed noble guard burst into the study.
"INTRU—"
He didn't even get to finish.
In a flash, Mielle darted forward, kicked his legs out from under him, and flipped gracefully over his tumbling body.
Her hands moved in a blur, plucking the man's coin pouch straight from his belt as he hit the ground face-first.
Then, before anyone else could react, she twirled once and leapt onto the balcony railing.
A dozen guards stormed into the room behind her.
"There! Thief—"
"TOO LATE, BOYS!" Mielle cackled, blowing them a mocking kiss as she backflipped off the balcony.
Her body twisted midair, landing flawlessly on a clothesline that stretched between two buildings.
She slid down the line like a gymnast, then vaulted off at the perfect moment, tumbling into the next rooftop with zero effort.
The moment her feet hit the tiles, she took off running.
Fast. Effortless. Untouchable.
She wasn't called the Phantom Fox for nothing.
By the time the guards made it outside, she was already gone.
Mielle landed in a dark alleyway, dusting off her sleeves.
The adrenaline faded. The chase was over.
But the rage inside her remained.
Her tail flicked violently as she clenched her fists.
Reed.
Retired.
She still couldn't wrap her head around it.
For years, he had been her favorite toy—the one weak little adventurer who somehow kept going, despite all the odds.
She had stolen his wallet a total of seventy-six times. (Not that he had ever had much money.)
She had dragged him into at least a dozen 'training exercises' that ended in absolute disaster.
She had convinced him to sneak into high-level dungeons "for research purposes" (which was totally not a trap just to see how fast he could run).
And he never gave up.
Not once.
That was his whole thing.
And now, suddenly, he was just… gone?
Like hell.
She grabbed the guild letter again, scanning for details.
"…Brookstead, huh?" she muttered.
A small village out in the countryside.
A place where a washed-up nobody could disappear quietly, far from the chaos of the capital.
She gritted her teeth.
That wasn't happening.
She wasn't letting it happen.
Reed was her prey.
And she wasn't about to let him escape.
With one last flick of her tail, she turned sharply, stepping into the shadows.
A moment later—she was gone.
Back at the mansion, the guards stood in stunned silence, staring at the wrecked study.
One of them sighed.
"…The Phantom Fox, huh?"
"Yep."
"We're not getting paid enough for this."
"Yep."
The first guard cautiously peeked out the broken window.
"…Is she already out of the city?"
"Yep."
The first guard sighed again, rubbing his temples.
"…You know what? I quit."
---
Reed let out a long, slow breath as he trudged up the dirt path leading to Brookstead.
The journey had taken most of the day, but now—finally—he was home.
The familiar scent of fresh earth and wildflowers drifted through the cool evening breeze. Fireflies flickered near the riverbanks, their golden glow dancing over the water's surface. The faint sound of village chatter carried in the distance—farmers finishing their day's work, children laughing as they ran down the stone-paved streets.
It was peaceful.
Simple.
Everything he had missed during his four long, miserable years as an adventurer.
Reed took another deep breath, his tension finally easing.
"No more guild work," he muttered to himself, rolling his shoulders. "No more sleeping in rat-infested inns. No more getting laughed at for failing basic quests. No more insane adventurers dragging me into their problems."
He exhaled again, closing his eyes.
It was really over.
He had finally escaped.
A small smile tugged at his lips.
For the first time in a long, long time, Reed actually felt… good.
He let his tired feet carry him forward, past the old wooden fences marking the village's border.
The warm glow of lantern-lit windows greeted him as he stepped onto the main street.
A few villagers turned, eyes widening in surprise.
"Oi, isn't that Reed?"
"Wait… Reed? The same Reed who went off to be an adventurer?"
"Hah! Knew he'd be back eventually. Bet he got sick of scraping goblin dung off his boots."
Reed sighed loudly, but he couldn't even be mad.
They weren't wrong.
A few kids ran up to him, excitedly tugging at his cloak.
"Reed! Reed! Did you fight a dragon?!"
"Did you defeat the Demon King?!"
"Did you—"
"No," he cut in flatly. "No dragons. No Demon Kings. Just a lot of cleaning drains and picking up cat posters."
The kids blinked.
One of them frowned. "Wait… isn't that just what our town guard does?"
Reed's eye twitched.
"…Yeah," he muttered. "Yeah, it is."
The kids slowly lost interest and wandered off.
Reed rubbed his temples, wondering if it was too late to turn around and become a hermit in the mountains instead.
But before he could rethink his entire life, a familiar elderly voice called out from a nearby house.
"Reed, boy! That really you?"
Reed looked up.
An old man with a massive mustache and a walking cane stood at the doorway of a small house, squinting at him through the dim light.
Reed grinned.
"Chief Darius," he greeted, walking over. "It's been a while."
The village chief huffed, resting both hands on his cane.
"I'll say," he muttered. "Four years since you left, and what do we get? No letters, no visits—thought you went and got yourself eaten by a wyvern."
Reed laughed weakly, scratching the back of his head.
"Yeah… let's just say adventuring didn't quite go as planned."
Darius snorted. "Aye. Figured as much. You were always the stubborn type."
The old man eyed him up and down, then smirked.
"Well, guess that means you're back for good, eh?"
Reed hesitated for a moment.
Then he nodded.
"…Yeah."
It was the first time he had said it out loud.
The first time it had really felt real.
Darius grinned. "Good. Then you'll be needing a place to stay."
Reed blinked. "Wait, I was just gonna—"
"Nonsense," the old man interrupted, waving his cane dismissively. "Got a spare house near the west fields. You'll take it."
Reed opened his mouth to argue, then stopped.
…Actually, that didn't sound too bad.
A real house. A quiet life. No adventurers, no quests, no—
BOOM.
The ground trembled slightly beneath his feet.
Reed froze.
Somewhere, far in the distance, the faint echo of an explosion rumbled across the horizon.
Reed's brows furrowed.
"…Huh."
Darius scratched his chin. "Haven't had a storm this time of year before."
Reed nodded slowly, still listening to the distant rumbling.
"…Yeah. Weird."
But he thought nothing of it.
Instead, he turned back to Darius, feeling the weight of exhaustion finally catching up to him.
"…I'll take the house," he muttered.
Darius grinned. "Knew you would. Welcome home, boy."
Reed sighed in relief as he followed the old man down the street.
His new life had just begun.
Meanwhile, at the guild…
The Guild Master sighed heavily, massaging his temples with his clawed fingers.
Across the counter from him, a grinning fox-eared girl twirled a stolen letter between her fingers.
"So, he really left, huh?" Mielle mused, flicking the parchment lazily.
The beastkin man grunted. "You already read the damn thing. What are you even asking for?"
Mielle's smirk widened. "Just seeing if you'd try to lie about it."
The Guild Master rolled his eyes.
Mielle tilted her head. "You know, old man… I actually feel kinda hurt."
"Doubt it."
She pouted dramatically. "Reed didn't even say goodbye. That's pretty cold, don't you think?"
The Guild Master grunted again. "If you actually gave a damn, you wouldn't have needed to steal a letter from a noble's study to find out."
Mielle grinned. "Yeah, well… what can I say? I love surprises."
The Guild Master exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "You're gonna track him down, aren't you?"
Mielle twirled the letter once, then tucked it into her sleeve.
"What do you think?"
The Guild Master leaned back in his chair, flicking his tail once. "I think you're all goddamn insane."
Mielle laughed. "And I think you're underestimating just how fun this is about to be."
With that, she turned on her heel, stepping toward the exit.
As she reached the door, she threw one last playful glance over her shoulder.
"Oh, and old man?"
The Guild Master didn't look up. "What now?"
Mielle grinned. "Tell the other guilds that if anyone else tries to chase after him—"
Her golden eyes gleamed mischievously.
"—they're gonna have to go through me."
Then, with a flick of her tail, she vanished into the night.
The Guild Master sighed deeply, rubbing his face.
"…That poor bastard doesn't know what's coming."
End of Prologue.