The sun peeked through the shutters of the small guestroom, casting warm beams across the wooden floorboards. Birds chirped softly outside, but inside…
Lio: "Hey! That was my bread!"
Selena: "You looked at it. I claimed it."
Lio: "That's not how breakfast works!"
Selena: "Snooze, you lose. Welcome to the real world."
The table creaked under the pressure of the two copper-ranked rookies leaning over it, fighting not monsters, but breakfast.
Lio lunged with a wooden spoon, attempting to spear the last boiled egg.
Selena blocked with her butter knife like a seasoned duelist.
Selena: "Touch the egg and lose a finger."
Lio: "You already took the sweet roll! There should be a law!"
Selena: "There is. It's called 'I'm faster than you.'"
Their host, the kind elderly woman who had offered them a stay, stood in the corner holding a teapot, staring as the two adventurers reenacted a tavern version of a battlefield.
She blinked. Twice.
Old Lady: "...Is this courtship?"
Red, seated quietly at the edge of the table, sipping his coffee
Red: "Unfortunately, no."
Lio: "She tried to poison me with overly salted butter yesterday!"
Selena: "You asked for extra flavor!"
Lio: "I nearly bit into a salt brick!"
Selena: "You survived. You're stronger now."
They paused in their argument as both reached for the same piece of toast—hands locking like it was Excalibur.
A long, tense beat.
Selena: "We split it?"
Lio: "Agreed."
They ripped it unevenly.
Lio: "HEY! You took the big half!"
Selena: "Fair is fair."
Lio: "That's not how math works!"
Red: "You two are why goblins are thriving."
Lio and Selena : "HEY!"
The trio stepped out of the village inn, the morning sun warming the dewy grass. Birds sang. The breeze was pleasant. It should have been a peaceful walk.
Selena: "You still owe me half a toast."
Lio: "You mean the one you devoured in three bites?"
Selena: "Efficiency."
Lio: "That was theft, and I demand breakfast reparations!"
Selena: "Add it to your imaginary tab, freckle-face."
Lio: "I have a system."
Red, walking ten paces ahead, sighed inwardly.
They passed a wooden fence marking the edge of a sunlit herb patch.
Selena: "These are silverleaf. Useful for minor healing potions."
Lio: "I saw it first!"
Selena: "You tripped over it! That's not claiming it!"
Lio: "Gravity is a valid method of discovery!"
Selena: "Tell that to your face when you fall into a poison nettle bush."
The morning sun beamed down on the forest path just outside Elmsbrook Village. Birds chirped, the breeze was soft, and the gentle rustling of leaves made everything feel almost idyllic, if not for the loud, continuous bickering between two rookie adventurers.
Selena yanked a bright red herb from the soil and dangled it in front of Lio like a prize. Her smug grin could've lit a bonfire.
Selena: "Another one for the pouch. That's six to your three."
Lio: "Please. I'm going for quality over quantity. Look at this leaf, it's pristine."
He held up a herb so wilted it looked like it had fought a squirrel and lost.
Selena: "That one's half-dead."
Lio: "It's rustic!"
Their voices echoed through the woods as they wandered the forest's edge, filling their satchels with herbs for the guild quest. Their friendly feud had drawn in an audience of small forest birds that watched from the trees, utterly confused by the chaos.
Meanwhile, Red walked quietly behind them, scanning the area with a neutral face. To the average eye, he was simply acting like an exasperated older brother dealing with two loud kids.
But Red wasn't laughing.
The village chief hadn't shown up all morning. Not at the well. Not around the herb fields. Not even at the village hall where he usually strutted around like a rooster.
Worse, his guards were gone too.
Red's eyes trailed to faint tracks leading away from the village, wagon wheels, boot prints, even a horse's tread too fresh for a delivery route. It all pointed north. Fast departure. No attempt to hide the trail.
He turned to the two still-arguing rookies.
Red: "Stay close to the village edge. Don't stray too far."
Selena: "What? Why?"
Lio: "Finally bored of us bickering?"
Red: "No. I have a lead to follow. Stay together. Be ready to leave at any time."
He didn't wait for more questions. With a flick of his cloak, he vanished into the trees.
The forest grew darker the farther he went, the canopy thickening, light dimming. Birds fell silent. The soil turned dry and cracked, disturbed by too many feet too recently.
Red knelt, brushing fingers over a crushed clump of grass.
Red: "Thirty… no, thirty-five. Men. Heavy armor. Two carts. Leather boots. Some animal droppings. Horses or mules. Slavers."
He rose and began to move, fluid and silent.
His cloak shifted like mist, his presence nearly erased as he slipped between branches and broken trees. The Slavers may have been ruthless, but they were arrogant. They never expected someone trained in their own tracking methods to come hunting.
The trail led him to a wide clearing surrounded by jagged rock outcrops. A crude stockade had been built, wooden posts sharpened at the tips, forming a perimeter around a camp.
Inside, a wagon full of chained girls, most in rags, sat beside two smaller tents where slavers counted coin and joked loudly. Thirty men in total, with leather armor, worn blades, and cruel laughter.
And there, entering the camp on horseback with urgency
The village chief.
His voice was loud, desperate.
Chief: "They know! Someone found the papers! We need to move the cargo now!"
A slaver, a thick man with a missing ear, growled at him.
Slaver Captain: "You were supposed to keep them busy with the herb quest. We paid you plenty."
Chief: "They brought a man in black! He's not normal, he looked straight through me!"
Slaver Captain: "Then maybe we kill them all."
That was when the shadows moved.
They didn't hear Red approach.
They didn't have time to react.
A black blur dropped from the treetops, landing between the two main guards. Steel flashed. Blood sprayed.
A neck was opened in one motion.
A ribcage split in another.
By the time the third guard screamed, Red was already in the center of the camp. His eyes glowed faintly under his hood. His blade was black and hungry.
Red: "You had your chance."
Chaos erupted.
Bandits fumbled for weapons. One blew a horn—only to have it shoved down his throat, crushed.
Slavers charged, thinking him alone.
They died in seconds.
Red spun through them like a ghost, every movement efficient, lethal. Throats slit. Spines broken. Swords shattered on his parries. His training as a Midnight Pact enforcer showed now—but twisted into vengeance.
The chief tried to run.
Red caught him by the cloak, yanked him backward, and slammed him into the ground.
Chief: "Please! Please! I was forced to—"
Red: "You sold your daughter, your Villager"
The words hit harder than any blade. The man went still.
Red didn't even bother drawing his sword.
He turned and let the silence judge the man.
It was worse than death.
When the blood settled, Red opened the slave cart doors.
The girls inside flinched, some shielding their faces, some crying. But one among them, blonde hair, striking blue eyes, about eighteen, looked up at him with wide eyes.
Red: "Sarah?"
She nodded slowly.
Red: "Your mother is waiting."
Her eyes filled with tears.
Back at the Village...
Selena: "Do NOT say you picked more than me."
Lio: "I have superior fingers. Herb-plucking fingers."
Selena: "You barely picked your nose, let alone a plant."
A distant rumble echoed through the forest, subtle, like thunder, but low and heavy.
Lio: "Did you hear that?"
Selena: "Yeah… where's Red?"
Before they could ask more, the trees rustled, and from them stepped Red, cloaked in bloodstained fabric, dirt on his boots.
Behind him were twenty girls, all thin, ragged, and exhausted, but alive.
Among them walked Sarah, hand in hand with Red, eyes glimmering with new hope.
Selena gasped.
Selena: "You… you found them?"
Red: "They were never taken by force. They were sold."
He didn't say more.
But that night, the village would whisper the tale of a black-clad hunter who fell upon the slavers like judgment itself.
And Red, once again, would vanish into the shadows before the gratitude could reach him.