As the sun sank in the west, the light slowly faded, and the outline of the distant stone walls grew indistinct.
Cooking smoke curled lazily upward. Day laborers shouldered their tools; merchants packed away their wares.
Shadows crept across the streets, swallowing them bit by bit. Amid the thinning crowd, one figure leaned against a wall, clearly out of place.
His clothing was refined—a deep blue velvet coat embroidered with silver thread, paired with a well-tailored white linen shirt that had obviously been made to measure.
The sword at his waist was equally ornate, clearly expensive.
But a closer look revealed the truth: the front of his coat was covered in dark brown stains, the silver embroidery on his left shoulder had been torn apart, and both cuffs and hem were deeply creased and worn.
Whenever Renato thought back over the past three months, his mind turned into a hopeless tangle.
Just moments earlier he had been at home, enjoying hot pot and singing along to music; the next moment he was inexplicably dragged into this other world.
Worse still, the original owner of this body had been a devout member of a cult—and not just any member, but one whose entire family had been fanatically devoted, thoroughly and irredeemably tainted.
Worst of all, the moment of his arrival coincided precisely with the cult's sacrificial ritual—and the sacrifice in question was himself.
Although a group of "righteous" adventurers had burst in at the last second and disrupted the ceremony, allowing him to escape in the chaos, the bloody rite had still cost him a large portion of his memories. He couldn't even recall his original name and had no choice but to keep using the body's original name for the time being.
On top of everything else, the original owner's impeccable cult pedigree meant no one was willing to listen to explanations. They only wanted his head in exchange for the bounty.
To survive, he had gathered what little he could carry and fled south.
All along the way he had dodged pursuit while piecing together fragments of the original owner's memories and selling off anything he could turn into coin.
He pressed a hand to his chest, feeling the black circular brand of the evil god Dakur beneath his clothing, and let out a silent, helpless sigh.
He had passed through several kingdoms and dozens of cities, large and small, before finally reaching this southern free city of Freed. Surely he should be safe here?
Besides, he had run out of money to keep running.
Apart from the clothes on his back and the sword at his waist, he had sold everything sellable. Now he had exactly five silver coins left.
Doing quick mental arithmetic about daily expenses, he assessed his current situation.
"Even counting lodging, this money will last me four weeks at most. I need to find a way to earn more soon, or I'll genuinely go hungry."
After spending the whole day looking for day labor in the streets, Renato leaned against the wall and stared blankly at the sky.
"Day labor clearly isn't going to work. Without a foreman's recommendation or guild membership, no one will hire me…"
He remembered being chased away by a servant at a noble's residence just yesterday.
"Working as a scribe for the aristocracy isn't an option either. I inherited the original owner's education and handwriting—I can produce beautiful script—but with no verifiable background and dressed in these rags, I can't even get through the front gate…"
"And my identity wouldn't stand up to any real scrutiny. The moment a priest of almost any god spots this brand…"
"Is this really the only path left?"
——————
The next morning, after doing his best to tidy his clothes and alter his appearance as much as possible, Renato cautiously approached the doors of the Adventurers' Guild.
There weren't many people coming and going; those who did looked travel-worn and weathered.
Men and women alike, most wore leather or chain armor and carried an assortment of weapons.
Following the sparse flow of people past the tall marble columns, Renato stepped into the main hall.
Sunlight poured through the high cross-vaulted ceiling. Rows of bulletin boards lined the room, covered in quests. Some adventurers stood in front of them, arguing loudly and rather crudely as they competed for the best postings.
Renato scanned the hall. The layout was straightforward: the main counter faced the entrance, with a few people queued in front of it. After a moment of observation he noticed the center window was almost empty. Recalling the backstory he had rehearsed countless times, he headed toward the reception desk—but before he could even open his mouth, an impatient female voice cut in:
"New registrations go to the counter on the right to pay first, then come back here to fill out the form. Quest turn-ins and bounty collection are at the left window. Complaints or suggestions—go out, turn right, municipal hall."
————
After paying two silver coins and standing in line again, Renato held the iron badge in his hand and asked, somewhat uncertain:
"That's it? I'm an adventurer now?"
The receptionist didn't even look up. She simply pointed toward the quest boards that filled the hall.
"The task board is over there. Everything you need to know is written on the postings. Accept a quest, then come back here to register it. Next!"
No guarantor required. No probing questions. Just two silver coins, a sheepskin form where you wrote a name and basic details like race, and that was it.
All the careful explanations he had prepared turned out to be unnecessary.
But however simple the process, Renato was now officially an adventurer and could accept quests through the guild.
With only three silver coins left in his pouch, he gripped the hilt of his sword tightly. No matter what, he had to earn some money today.
Adventurers drifted between the boards. Renato's eyes moved from one sheepskin notice to the next:
"Seeking magical relics from the Nithel Kingdom—scrolls, enchanted weapons, etc. Higher rewards offered for better quality…"
He didn't read further. The minimum rank requirement was 2; he couldn't accept it.
"Hunt a basilisk lizard and return with at least one intact eye…"
In the original owner's memories, basilisk lizards were classic magical beasts whose gaze could petrify their prey. Definitely not something he should attempt right now.
"Gather 30 stalks of silverbell herb. Must be fresh enough to pass an identification spell…"
Silverbell herb?
What even was that?
He kept scanning. After circling the boards several times, Renato reached a dingy corner board and finally found something suitable.
"Hunt goblins in the southern forest. No limit on number. Bring back the right ear of each. 5 copper coins per ear. For questions, consult the village chief of Miloz Village south of the city…"
Recalling the classic image of weak, cowardly goblins, Renato gave a satisfied nod.
"The pay is low, but at least it's safe. And starting an adventurer career by hunting goblins is practically the standard protagonist opening. Classic transmigrator plot."
————
After spending another two silver coins on a pair of leather gloves, leather bracers, maintenance oil for his sword, and a few basic adventuring supplies, Renato set out for Miloz Village south of the city.
The village chief was out working the fields, so he never got to speak with him. Instead he ended up talking to the local swineherd.
Looking at the young man covered in mud, reeking of pig manure, and repeatedly spitting on the ground, Renato forced down his discomfort and tried again:
"So the last time the village saw goblins was in the ravine south of the logging camp… Could you be a bit more specific? How many were there? What kind of weapons were they carrying?"
"How many?" The youth scratched his filthy hair as if trying to remember. "A bunch, I guess. They all look the damn same—green."
He spat again, irritated. "Wooden clubs, bits of rusty scrap metal, screeching like crazy. Last week they stole Old John's chickens—feathers everywhere…"
After a few more minutes of conversation, Renato furrowed his brow. Clearly he wasn't going to get any useful details from the villagers. Still, it was enough to start.
"At least I have a rough location," he told himself, trying to stay positive. "Everything's hard at the beginning. If I can finish this commission before noon, I'll treat myself to a proper bath at the city bathhouse this afternoon."
————
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