[Sinseki Era — Year -21]
[Northern Nations · Vorig County Territory]
The golden glow of dusk poured over the southernmost metropolis of the Northern Nations, coating the city in a warm amber hue.
At an open-air café beside an inn, the master-and-apprentice duo, having just set down their luggage, sat face to face enjoying desserts delivered by the server.
It had been two days since their stay at the mountain cabin in the Tiek Region. After a night of camping outdoors, they finally arrived at Vorig County Territory, a bustling human settlement.
Had Serie not lured her disciple with creamy ice cream and sweet confections, Gut would've gladly collapsed onto the inn's soft bed and slept until the next morning.
At the table, Gut spooned a piece of cake into his mouth. The soft sponge and rich cream perfectly showcased the allure of sweets.
Meanwhile, the vanilla ice cream was just as spectacular—cool to the tongue, with a deep and rich dairy flavor.
"Hm-hm~"
Across the table, Serie hummed in satisfaction as she watched her disciple's content expression.
She had visited this dessert shop beside the inn thirty years ago, and the exquisite flavor had left a deep impression on her even then.
Scooping a spoonful of pistachio-stuffed gelato, Serie popped it into her mouth.
The flavor matched her memories exactly—the dairy richness bloomed in her mouth, and a gentle chew brought forth the nutty aroma of crushed pistachios.
While enjoying the dessert, Serie's gaze turned to the shop owner.
A kind elderly woman smiled as she spoke with patrons, taking their orders and deftly scooping balls of ice cream.
Each motion still faintly resembled the "young lady" Serie had once known.
Only... she might not get to taste this flavor again in the future.
What a shame...
With that thought, Serie gestured for the server to approach.
"Ma'am, how may I assist you?"
"Please bring me one of every ice cream flavor your shop offers."
"Pardon?"
The server was stunned. "Are you certain? Our ice cream melts rather quickly."
"That's true," Serie chuckled. "Then please bring them one at a time with intervals between, if that's okay."
"Of course, Miss."
The server noted it down and passed the request to the elderly lady.
"Master, do you like ice cream that much?"
Watching her order so many flavors, Gut couldn't help but wonder about the impressive fortitude of elven stomachs.
"Not particularly," Serie replied calmly. "No one truly dislikes sweets. I just... felt like it."
"Really?"
Watching her steadily devour scoop after scoop of pistachio ice cream, Gut chuckled.
At this point, he had come to understand Serie's little habit of saying one thing and meaning another.
Such an adorably dishonest elf.
Rather than push further, Gut shifted the topic.
"Master, on our way to the County Territory, we didn't encounter a single demon ambush."
"One could argue it's just luck, or perhaps the demons sensed your overwhelming mana and fled…"
"But even when I unleashed my full magical senses outside the city, I didn't detect the faintest trace of demon presence."
Serie's eyes glinted with interest.
"So that's why you used mana detection out in the fields. Intriguing—let's hear your theory."
Gut rested his chin on his hand and pondered.
"It's true that the Demon King's death demoralized the demon forces."
"Yet even near human towns, especially this close to the Demon King's former territory, there should be residual demon activity."
"They used to ambush merchants, disrupt supply lines, terrorize outlying villages—anything to sow chaos and prevent human expansion."
"Even the mighty Empire had its territory isolated in this way some fifty years ago, until the Hero's party broke through after slaying the Demon King."
"This strategy has always worked—there's no reason for demons to abandon it."
"Especially with the local demon commander being Guillotine Aura, a member of the Seven Calamities. She can convert fallen enemies into her undead army."
"With her forces wiped by the Hero's party, she should be desperate to rebuild. Why would she suddenly go quiet?"
"It's too calm outside Vorig County. Unnaturally calm. I suspect... they're plotting something big."
Clink—
Before Serie could respond, a middle-aged man at the next table, with white hair and a dazed expression, dropped his fork.
The commotion drew glances from nearby diners. After apologizing profusely, the man picked up his utensils—but instead of returning to his table, he dragged his chair over to Gut and Serie's.
"Pardon me, Sir, Miss. I know this is rude, but if I pay for your meal, may I join your discussion?"
Gut frowned slightly, ready to refuse—he didn't care about a free meal when it interrupted time with his master.
But before he could decline, he noticed Serie staring at the man's chest—specifically, the emblem on his clothing.
Wait a second... Gut also recognized that emblem. He'd seen it before—on some of his junior's garments.
As the realization hit him, Serie asked:
"What is your relationship with Gumi?"
"...!!"
The man's eyes widened in shock.
"You... know the young lady?"
"I am her teacher," Serie replied calmly.
"Her... teacher? Wait, are you... the legendary archmage—"
The man covered his mouth before he shouted.
Realizing this man was connected to his junior, Gut didn't object to him staying. He even shifted his seat to make room.
The white-haired man gave a grateful nod and lowered his voice.
"Honored mages, I am Miles, the young lady's butler and interim manager of our trading company."
"Miles?" "Her butler?"
Gut twitched slightly. Those titles rang familiar.
He couldn't resist asking:
"Is your company named... Thorned Rose Guild?"
"Huh?"
Miles looked puzzled. "Why would it be something like that? Sounds like a criminal gang."
"We're a proper trading company. We're called the Darmonus Trading Company."
"Huh. Okay then."
Gut shrugged. "Guess you don't need to worry about seawater, then."
"...?"
Miles couldn't quite grasp Gut's cryptic quip. But he coughed politely and asked to return to the earlier topic—particularly about Aura the Guillotine.
"You seem unusually interested in her, sir," Gut noted. "Any reason?"
Miles's expression darkened as he lowered his head.
Realizing he may have touched a sore spot, Gut quickly apologized, offering to skip the question.
"No. I'll share it," Miles said quietly.
"Your analysis might be correct. This story might help."
"If you've never heard it from the young lady, she likely still carries trauma from it..."
"The incident took place in Imperial Year XX..."
Meanwhile...
[Northern Nations · Schwer Mountains]
Having rested for a day in Appetit Town, noble youth Mut sent off a letter to his family to assure them of his safety, then set off with supplies in hand to cross the Schwer Mountains toward the secret ruin in the Central Nations' Voll Basin.
He collected his repaired sword from the city blacksmith—and once again, traveled alone.
Why no mercenaries?
Not by choice—he was simply broke.
His first runaway from home, Mut had underestimated travel expenses and packed too little cash.
Hiring adventurers? He tried, but the trustworthy ones didn't believe him, and the shady ones didn't inspire trust.
With no time to waste, he bit the bullet and went solo.
Deep in the Schwer Mountains...
Mut inhaled deeply. The recent rain had left the forest air crisp and refreshing.
"Hey, that fruit looks juicy."
After walking a while, thirst hit him. He reached for a fruit hanging from a cliffside branch.
Just before he touched it—a camouflaged snake snapped at him!
Adrenaline surged. Mut's body reacted on instinct—training from countless beatings by his father.
He pivoted, sidestepped, and whipped out his sword—cutting the snake clean in two.
"Got it!"
Joy surged in Mut's heart—until he noticed something.
Both feet were off the ground.
He'd stepped off the cliff.
He plummeted, desperately reaching out to jab his sword into the rock wall—but it was too far.
"I'm screwed."
He closed his eyes, bracing for death.
"Giving up so soon, boy?"
A calm voice whispered in his ear.
Suddenly, his fall stopped. A strong hand had caught him.
He opened his eyes—and saw...
A Hero's Sword embedded in the cliff wall.
And a blue-haired, balding middle-aged man.
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Powerstones?
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