Warm sunlight spilled through the curtains, painting soft gold across the small wooden room. Asiel stirred awake, stretching lazily as the morning breeze brushed against his face.
"Ah… the sun's brighter today," he murmured, opening the window. The scent of the city drifted in—fresh bread from the bakeries, faint chatter from the streets below. He rubbed his eyes, smiling faintly. "Did I wake up late? Must be from yesterday's hunt."
He chuckled to himself. Magic, monsters, quests… who could've imagined my life would turn out like this?
After a quick wash, Asiel dressed in a fresh outfit—clothes he had bought the day before after collecting his guild reward. A crisp white tunic, a dark coat, and a small silver clasp shaped like a feather. He looked almost like a proper adventurer now.
Descending the creaky stairs, he found Mrs. Elara at the inn's counter, leaning lazily over a book.
"Good morning, Mrs. Elara," he greeted with his usual smile. "Do you happen to know what time it is?"
The woman looked up, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. "Oh, it's you, Asiel. You did wake later than usual, but not by much. I'd say it's around six in the morning."
"Ah, so I'm safe then," Asiel said with relief.
Elara chuckled softly. "So, young man, did you ever find a proper job?"
"I did," Asiel replied. "I'm working at the library now… and also taking on quests as an adventurer."
"Oh, really? That explains yesterday's exhaustion." She smiled warmly. "Well, take care of yourself. The world outside isn't as kind as this inn."
Asiel nodded. "Thank you, Mrs. Elara. I'll be careful."
As he stepped outside, she watched him go with a fond smile. "What a kind boy…" she whispered to herself.
The streets of Lagunica were already alive with morning bustle—vendors setting up stalls, blacksmiths hammering iron, and the faint tolling of church bells in the distance. Asiel made his way through the familiar path toward the old stone building that housed the city's library.
The heavy wooden doors creaked as he pushed them open. "Hey, Sir Thalion! I'm back!"
From behind a tall stack of books, an elderly man looked up. His hair was silver-white, his robe dark and lined with ink stains. A smile tugged at the corners of his weathered face.
"Asiel, my boy! You're safe." Thalion's voice carried both relief and reprimand. "I was worried when you didn't return last evening. And now I hear you've become a C-Class mage already? Hah, surpassing your old master, are you?"
Asiel laughed lightly. "Oh, it's nothing like that. I wouldn't have come this far without your teachings, Sir Thalion. If you hadn't explained how to connect with the elements, I'd never have touched magic at all."
Thalion waved a hand dismissively. "You're exaggerating, child. You've done what few can. But listen closely, Asiel…" His tone grew serious, eyes soft but firm. "If you'll take an old man's advice—quit this library job."
Asiel blinked, taken aback. "What? Why?"
Thalion leaned on his cane, his expression grave. "Because this world needs your power. This town needs you. Books are safe, yes—but safety is not your path. If you don't do your part as an adventurer… then who will?"
For a moment, Asiel stood silent, the old man's words sinking in. Then he nodded, calm but resolute.
"I understand, Sir Thalion. And… with all respect, I'll quit this job."
Thalion smiled faintly, a glimmer of pride in his eyes. "That's my boy. The world awaits, Asiel. Go find your place in it."
Asiel bowed deeply. "Thank you—for everything. For teaching me, for believing in me."
He turned and walked out of the library, the door closing softly behind him. The morning air met his face once again, cool and clear.
He wandered through the streets, his steps light but his heart heavy with thought. Before long, his eyes caught the signboard of a tailor's shop fluttering in the breeze.
Maybe… it's time to dress the part of who I'm becoming, he thought, pushing the door open.
The bell above the door chimed softly.
The quiet chime of a bell echoed as Asiel stepped into the peaceful clothing shop. The faint scent of fabric and cedar oil filled the air. Bolts of cloth were neatly stacked along the walls, and morning light spilled through the window, giving the room a gentle glow.
Behind the counter stood a middle-aged man with a calm face and neatly combed hair. He looked up and smiled warmly.
"Ah, Sir Asiel," the man greeted. "Good to see you again."
"Hello, Sir Daren," Asiel replied with a polite bow. "I'm really thankful for your kindness yesterday. You gave me spare clothes when I was covered in blood and even let me borrow those fine clothes without any charge. I can't thank you enough."
Daren waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, don't be like that, lad. It was the least I could do. So tell me—did those clothes suit your taste?"
Asiel smiled, looking down at his outfit. "Yes, sir. A crisp white tunic, dark coat, and that silver feather clasp—they're perfect. But I think I'd prefer something lighter this time. Yesterday I didn't get to properly shop, but now that I'm here, I'd like to see what you have."
Daren's eyes brightened with interest. "Oh my, you've got an eye for detail. Come this way." He gestured toward a rack at the far end of the shop. "May I ask, young man, what kind of work do you do?"
"I'm a mage," Asiel replied simply.
"Outstanding!" Daren said, clapping his hands together. "Then it's fate you came today. We just received a new shipment—crafted especially for spellcasters." He pulled out a folded dark-grey cloak, its inner lining faintly glimmering under the light.
"Here, take a look. Fire-resistant weave, light as silk, and thin enough not to restrict movement. It should serve you well in battle. And don't worry—it won't drain your purse. Only one hundred fifty bronze coins."
Asiel paused, thinking quickly. Sir Thalion paid me fifty bronze per week, I worked two weeks… that's a hundred. Plus, the quest reward gave me fifty silver and five hundred bronze. That's more than enough. Seems fair.
"I'll take it," he said, nodding. "And while I'm at it, I'll need two simple white shirts, two black trousers, a pair of boots, and a travel bag."
"Excellent choice!" Daren said cheerfully. "Give me a few minutes, and I'll have it all ready."
True to his word, a short while later the items were neatly arranged on the counter. Asiel changed in the small dressing room behind the shop. When he stepped out, Daren's eyes widened slightly.
Asiel's new attire fit perfectly—a white shirt with its sleeves neatly folded, black trousers snug yet comfortable, and the fire-resistant cloak resting on his shoulders like it belonged there. He looked every bit the part of a seasoned adventurer, not the novice he had been days ago.
Daren gave an approving nod. "Now that's the look of a man ready to take on the world."
Asiel smiled, adjusting the cloak clasp. "Thank you, Sir Daren. It feels right."
He packed his spare clothes into his new bag, counted out three hundred bronze coins, and handed them across the counter.
"Keep safe out there, young mage," Daren said kindly. "And if you ever find yourself in need of repairs or new gear, you know where to find me."
"I'll remember that," Asiel replied, pushing the shop door open as the morning light greeted him once more.
He took a deep breath, the weight of the bag firm against his shoulder, the soft sway of the cloak behind him.
"Alright," he murmured, smiling faintly. "Time to see what today's quest has in store."
And with that, Asiel set off toward the Guild, unaware that this morning would mark the beginning of a new bond—
one that would shape his journey in this other world.
They pushed open the Guild doors and the familiar din of adventurers folded around them — laughter, coin clinking, a shouted boast — but Yrion stood alone at the quest board, brow furrowed as he scanned the parchment. Asiel slipped up behind him and gave a friendly pat on the shoulder.
"Oh — hi, Yrion. Didn't expect to see you here so early. You look troubled."
Yrion turned, his expression brightening at the sight of Asiel. "Asiel! Fancy meeting you. I was just trying to pick a job for today. Too many choices, too little time."
"How about we take one together?" Asiel offered. "Make it official."
"Official?" Yrion raised an eyebrow.
"We should form a party. Two-man teams get priority on some contracts." Asiel grinned.
Yrion's face split into a grin. "That sounds perfect. Let's make it official, then."
They went to the counter and registered as a pair. Lyra looked up from her ledger, smiling when she saw the two of them together.
"Miss Lyra, any suggestions for a party of two?" Asiel asked.
Lyra's fingers tapped the list. "We don't have any hunting quests at the moment, but there's a posting from the innkeeper near the west wall. He's asking for adventurers to handle a safety issue. It's vague — no threat or grade listed — but the reward is unusually high."
Yrion and Asiel exchanged a look and pulled the posted note free. Their eyes widened in unison.
"One thousand bronze?" Yrion breathed. "No silver—just bronze. Whoever put this up is desperate to pay cash."
"Desperate or scared," Asiel said. "Either way, we should check it out."
They left the Guild together, the morning sun warming their backs. Yrion glanced at Asiel's cloak and gave a low whistle. "You're looking sharp. That cloak really suits you — looks like proper magic gear."
Asiel smoothed the fabric with a small smile. "It's fire-resistant. Daren recommended it for mages who like to be useful and not get burned." He tilted his head. "Does your sword do anything beyond slashing? Fire, lightning?"
Yrion laughed and balled his hand into a fist. "If I don't have my sword, I've got this." He flexed. "Sometimes that's all you need."
A moment of silence passed. Then both of them burst into laughter. The sound was easy and real — something Asiel felt like he hadn't had in a long while. He was growing a friend worth calling a companion.
They wandered through the market, chatting about nothing and everything, until they reached an old bar two streets from the west wall. The sign creaked. Inside, the room smelled of spilled ale and stale smoke. Only a handful of patrons lingered — eyes narrow, hands unconsciously near weapons. The place felt like it had been waiting for trouble.
Yrion set the quest notice on the counter. "We're here for the posting. Do you need help?"
A bald, burly man with a white beard — the innkeeper — looked up, and for a heartbeat his gaze flickered toward the room as if expecting an ambush.
But then something odd happened: a slight, young figure stepped from behind the counter. He looked younger than Asiel, but his voice carried a tremor of courage as he spoke.
"I commissioned it," the boy said. "Sir, there are bad people occupying my grandfather's store."
Silence fell. Conversation in the bar died as eyes slowly turned toward the corners. Seven patrons in total — three huddled at the left table, four on the right. One of the four wore a battered hat and watched the newcomers with a steady, cold expression. The room smelled of old blood and older grudges.
The bald man's voice scraped. "No, no, you must have the wrong place." His hands trembled as he pushed the notice back. "We didn't post anything like that—"
"Lies," the man in the hat muttered under his breath, and one of his companions let a small, cruel smile slip.
Asiel's lip twitched into a small, dangerous smile. Yrion's hand moved to the hilt of his sword without a sound. The patrons shifted in their seats and one by one drew blades — not theatrical weapons, but the kind worn by men who'd learned to take what they wanted.
The hat man's hand rested on the pommel in an easy, threatening way. "You two are either brave or mad," he said. "Either way — this is private business. Walk away."
Asiel's eyes scanned the room — three on the left, four on the right. The youngest at the counter stood with his chin set, fear present but not complete; he'd chosen to speak up anyway. That mattered to Asiel more than any reward.
Yrion's grin was sharp and confident. "We don't do walkaways. We do jobs. What's your problem, old man? Who's occupying the store?"
The hat-man's smile cracked like thin ice. "You asking questions for the owner now? Fine. They're a gang of thieves. Took over the shop last night. If you want coin, you can try your luck. But don't say we didn't warn you."
The air tightened. The other men shifted forward, knives glinting. The inn's patrons pressed back, nervous or eager for the spectacle. The young boy's hands were white on the counter.
Asiel felt his pulse steady. The nervousness that had rattled him during his first hunt was still there, but under it lay something new: a clear, settling purpose. This wasn't about trophies or pay—this was about standing when someone else couldn't.
He met Yrion's eyes. Yrion's jaw set. They both gave the same small smile — the sort that meant one thing: let's finish this quick.
"Very well," Asiel said softly. "Let's do it."
They stood side by side and stepped forward, the bell over the bar door jingling like a starting drum.
Outside, sunlight hit the street. Inside, weapons slid free. The fight — and the next proof of what they had become — had begun.