The guild hall was unusually quiet when Olivia broke the news. A crisp letter lay open on the counter, its wax seal bearing the emblem of Iguro Town.
"Official request from the town head," Olivia said, her tone carrying both relief and concern. "There's a goblin infestation in the western forest. Outpost spotted. They're asking for aid from the guilds."
James straightened in his seat. "First quest?"
Olivia nodded. "Yes, but don't get excited. Goblins aren't as mindless as people think. Outposts mean traps, scouts, and maybe even a captain. The town wants it cleared before they get bold enough to attack the roads." She looked between him and Ilyanna. "You two will go."
Ilyanna's expression was calm, but her fingers were already flexing like she was preparing to draw her bow. "When do we leave?"
"Now. You'll meet the others at the western gate."
At the gate, two other guild banners were already flying.
From Red Scorpion, a tall, lean man with a scholar's robe waved cheerfully as they approached. "Dannevie. Wind-type spells," he introduced himself, extending a hand to James. "Nice to have some fellow casters along."
Beside him stood two men from Black Claw.
The first, Chester Diyana, had a smirk that never seemed to leave his face. His sword rested casually against his shoulder, eyes drifting over Ilyanna a moment too long before he looked away. "Well, well. Silver Phantom sent the rookies."
Behind him was Argo Flores, a stocky dwarf with heavy gauntlets and a grin that matched his leader's slyness—though his posture screamed clumsy. "Don't worry, we'll keep you safe," he said, his tone just as patronizing.
James felt his jaw tighten, but Ilyanna's blank stare toward them was colder than anything he could have said.
They set out west under a pale morning sun, the forest gradually swallowing the road. Dannevie walked near James, chatting easily about spell theory and wind manipulation, while Chester and Argo took the front, loudly boasting about past kills. Ilyanna moved at the back, silent but watchful, scanning the treeline for movement.
By midday, they reached the outskirts of the goblin territory. Tracks littered the damp earth—small, three-toed footprints, recent and numerous.
Dannevie's voice dropped to a whisper. "We're close."
Ahead, through the dense undergrowth, faint smoke curled into the air. The outpost.
Olivia's warning echoed in James's mind: Goblins with an outpost are never just a rabble.
They weren't walking into a simple extermination—they were walking into a test.