The Guild was just opening.
The lanterns on the outer posts still burned, their soft amber light flickering in the early dawn haze. The front doors groaned open as Red stepped inside, boots thudding against the stone floor with a quiet finality. The lobby smelled faintly of parchment, dried ink, and fresh bread from a bakery somewhere down the street.
Behind the counter, a tired-looking woman was already knee-deep in paperwork.
Sophia, the receptionist of Silverhaven.
Her curled black hair was pinned up tight, but a few strands had already fallen loose. Her amber eyes scanned a ledger with razor-sharp focus, her quill scratching across the page without pause. A steaming cup of black tea, half-forgotten, sat beside her elbow.
She didn't look up at first.
Then she saw him.
Her shoulders stiffened slightly. A sigh escaped her lips, not exasperated, but resigned.
"Well," Sophia muttered dryly, straightening in her seat, "either it's the end of the world… or you've finally come to report something."
Red stepped forward and placed the object on the counter.
Thud.
Baphomet's horn.
It was massive. Blackened and jagged, with streaks of silver veining its surface like lightning frozen in time. Faint traces of abyssal mana pulsed from its core, enough to make nearby enchanted items hum uneasily.
Sophia blinked once, then reached under the counter and retrieved a special crystal box, already warded.
Without a word, she placed the horn inside. The box hissed shut, sealed by a locking rune.
She glanced back at him. "Time of completion?"
Red: "Yesterday."
Sophia: "Confirmation beacon?"
Red flicked his guild card. The magic projection shimmered briefly, showing the completed quest tag: [Baphomet Elimination – High Rank], time stamped and validated.
Sophia's eyes narrowed. She gave the smallest of nods.
"Reward: Eight Gold Coins. Plus eight hundred Quest Points," she recited briskly, reaching under the desk. She placed the coins in a pouch, slid it forward, but Red didn't take it.
Sophia didn't look surprised. "Thought so."
She sighed again and tucked it beneath the desk. She would log it into his vault later.
Most adventurers would've bragged. Some would've asked for recognition, a title, maybe a drink named after them in the taverns. Red? He was already walking toward the quest board.
The large wall-mounted board was mostly filled with scraps of parchment, pinned or magically stuck with flickering glyphs. Sophia had just updated it this morning.
Red scanned the quests in silence.
[Goblin Activity – Forest South of Tenraku]
[Goblin Nest – Near Old Ruins, Florasia Outskirts]
[Orc Raiders – Spotted Near Ginzawa Trade Route]
[Goblin Scout Patrols – North of Borealis]
[Goblin Encampment – Silverhaven Farmlands]
He stared at them.
So many goblins.
Too many.
He read the dates. Cross-referenced the locations. Patterns were forming, clusters, sightings, raids slowly creeping closer to safe zones. Different cities. Same threat.
He reached up and pulled down three quest slips.
Two goblin exterminations, one orc raid.
No hesitation.
Not because of money.
Not because of fame.
Because he remembered what happened the last time he ignored a goblin report.
Because he still heard the screams sometimes, at night, between breaths.
He handed the quest slips to Sophia, who silently stamped them.
"Due within seven days," she said, then softer, "You know you don't have to take them all."
Red didn't answer.
He just turned and walked out of the guild.
The sun was rising behind him.
But his shadow was long.
The city had begun to stir in earnest. Market stalls clattered open, and the streets of Silverhaven slowly filled with noise, bakers shouting prices, children darting between carts, and the clang of armor from patrolling guards.
Red ignored it all.
His feet moved on familiar paths, heading toward one of the less crowded supply stores tucked near the edge of the adventurer district. The sign above the door read "Kinrel's Essentials", though Red never bothered to look at it. He came here because they asked no questions, and because they never tried to upsell him.
Inside, the half-asleep shopkeeper gave him a wary nod, then stepped aside.
Red moved with purpose.
He picked out a day's worth of rations.
Two packs of smoked meat, hard bread, and a pouch of mixed nuts. Enough to stay on his feet.
Then came the potions. He grabbed three. One Orange Potion for heavier wounds, two Red Potions for minor cuts and fatigue. No mana vials. He didn't need magic.
From the shelf above the cooking tools, he took a tin of ground pepper, some dried green herbs, and a pinch of salt. Spices, even in battle, kept the mind steady.
Last, he checked his whetstone and field kit. Still intact from yesterday. He added a second Field Repair Kit, just in case.
He paid in silence. The shopkeeper didn't ask where he was going.
He never did.
Outside the city gates, Red walked south.
The fields stretched wide beneath the morning sun, golden wheat bending in the wind, casting shadows over the low hills. But not all of it was peaceful.
Smoke.
Just a thin line, curling in the far distance.
Silverhaven Farmlands
He arrived without a sound. Just beyond a small ridge, crude wooden stakes and filthy tents huddled in a makeshift circle. Goblins
At least two dozen, crawled between them. Some sharpened sticks. Others gnawed on bones. One was dancing around a stolen scarecrow.
None of them saw him coming.
He didn't use skills. He didn't shout.
He moved.
A blur of steel.
The first goblin fell before it turned. The next barely shrieked before its head split open. Red cut through them like tall grass, each step precise, each strike final. He didn't hesitate. He didn't think.
They died screaming, or not at all.
One tried to run. Red threw his sword. It hit the spine.
Another raised a rusted blade. Red crushed its throat with a kick before pulling the weapon from the ground and finishing it.
Within minutes, the camp was silent.
The bodies steamed in the sun.
Red didn't rest. He found the central nest, a dug-out pit beneath a rotting plank. Inside were bloodied sacks, bones, and signs of something worse.
No survivors. No captives.
But they'd used this place for breeding. Recently.
He dropped a torch inside.
The smoke turned black.
And then he left.
By afternoon, he reached the second site.
Forest South of Tenraku
This time, the woods were quiet.
Too quiet.
Red followed the signs, broken branches, goblin tracks, droppings. He didn't stop until he reached a mossy clearing where a small pack of goblins crouched around a snared boar, laughing and squealing.
He drew both blades.
And then silence fell again.
By the time the last goblin realized what was happening, it was alone. Red didn't even blink as his sword passed through its skull.
He searched. No victims. No burrow. Just a raiding band.
Done.
Evening approached as Red neared the third and final site.
Ginzawa Trade Route
He heard them before he saw them, deep voices, crude chants, the heavy drag of metal weapons across stone.
Three orcs. Not high-rank. Not organized. But dangerous.
They were halfway through looting a merchant's overturned wagon.
Red approached from behind.
His first strike split one in half.
The second orc bellowed and swung a massive axe, Red dodged low, slashed its tendons, then finished with a blade to the spine.
The third roared and charged.
Red met it head-on.
No flourish. Just weight, steel, and a clean vertical cut.
Silence.
The wagon was broken. Two horses lay dead nearby. He searched the ruins.
A boy, barely older than ten, trembled inside a flour sack.
Alive.
Red crouched, held out a hand.
The boy flinched.
"I'm not them," Red said, voice flat but calm. "You can go home."
The boy nodded slowly and ran without looking back.
Red watched him disappear over the ridge.
Then, without a word, he cleaned his blade, turned north, and began walking.
Three quests. Three locations.
All cleared before nightfall.