Inside the passenger carriage, Rome, Valda, Mary, and Lily sat around Spencer—watching over the party’s belongings, as well as the client himself.
On the cargo wagons behind them, Ace, Earp, and Sight handled external security, spread out and stationed at the rear of each wagon.
A simple mission, absurdly simple.
All they had to do… was reach the destination.
Spencer spoke openly to Valda, surprisingly candid.
“The reason I don’t want to pay the guild too much is because they love skimming off the top,”
he said.
“Adventurers end up receiving only a fraction of what they should. So I do the opposite… I post the job through the guild as Rank C just enough to make it official then once the work is done, I give the real bonus directly to the escorts. I’ve always done it this way.”
Valda nodded in understanding, her gaze gentle—though she didn’t miss the opportunity to weave in questions about the ores Spencer mentioned.
Mary listened for a short while, then let out a quiet sigh. Ore wasn’t interesting to her in the slightest.
Lily, on the other hand, said it out loud with zero restraint.
“My mana’s already overflowing all the time. Why would I need ore on top of that? Heh. Heh?”
Cut to Rome—his eyes sparkling as if he’d stumbled onto buried treasure. He listened to Spencer explain cutting techniques and jewelry with genuine excitement.
“Magnificent! It shines like a gemstone blessed by the gods themselves!”
But the most invested person of all was still Valda.
As a smith, she dove into the discussion with Spencer—deeply and enthusiastically—covering everything from ore classification and preservation, to smelting, cutting, and finally forging it into weapons or crafting it into ornaments.
Her knowledge impressed Spencer more than a little.
The wagon wheels ground along the dirt road—crunch, crunch—kicking up a light haze of dust. The horses snorted in steady rhythm, their breaths puffing like quiet drums.
Inside the passenger carriage, Spencer and Valda’s conversation grew more animated by the minute.
“As expected of a Rank S master smith…”
Spencer said with genuine admiration.
“Even though I’m a merchant, my knowledge is still embarrassingly small compared to yours, Lady Valda.”
He tilted his head thoughtfully.
“By the way… have you ever considered retiring and opening your own shop?”
Valda gave a faint smile before answering modestly.
“Honestly, I have. But opening a shop requires an enormous amount of capital. And you’d need connections with influential people too…”
She shrugged lightly.
“I don’t think it would suit me very well.”
Spencer shifted closer, his eyes sharpening with seriousness.
“Capital, I can’t promise,”
he said.
“But connections… I have plenty. If the opportunity comes, I’d be happy to introduce you.”
He took a small breath, then added with a chuckle in his voice
“And lately, quite a few noble daughters have started taking an interest in combat. Some of them even become adventurers themselves.”
His smile widened.
“If they could get weapons or gear from a smith like you… I guarantee you’d thrive.”
Valda laughed softly and waved a hand.
“Even so, my party already has two nobles.”
She let out a light, helpless chuckle.
“Taking on any more would be too much of a burden. Ha-ha.”
Rome immediately raised his hand, looking like he’d been waiting for this exact opening.
“Speaking of nobles this is my turn!”
he announced.
“My family has served the royal line as knights for generations.”
Then his expression turned defiantly dramatic.
“But I want none of it! I refuse to wear stiff uniforms every day. I’d rather be a handsome, free adventurer!”
Mary followed in a gentle voice, though a faint sadness slipped through.
“I was born into a noble family as well…”
she said quietly.
“My holy power was too strong, so I was sent to study at the church as a child.”
She lowered her eyes for a moment.
“But living there for my entire life… I didn’t want that either.”
Valda leaned in right away, teasing with a grin.
“Or is it because you’re scared of ghosts~?”
Mary’s face flushed bright red instantly.
“I-I mean… that too!”
she admitted.
The wagon wheels jolted to a stop.
More than ten dark figures sprang out onto the road, blocking the convoy. Weapons flashed into view, followed by a shouted threat.
“Get off the wagons! Keep your lives we don’t want to kill anyone!”
They didn’t even get to finish.
Earp vanished from the wagon in an instant.
And a heartbeat later, all ten bandits collapsed at once—knocked unconscious in a neat domino line.
Ace and Sight let out synchronized sighs before climbing down to drag each body into a pile by the roadside.
“Earp… next time, if you’re gonna knock them out, at least lure them to the side first,”
Ace grumbled while hauling a limp arm.
“These guys are heavy as hell.”
Sight chuckled under his breath as he helped.
“Honestly, judging by their gear and their skills… they’re probably only Rank D. They didn’t even get to move, and they got wiped as a set. Hah.”
The convoy resumed without issue.
By evening, they stopped to rest along the road. The party worked together to set up a small camp.
Mary placed light-element mana stones around the campsite like natural lanterns, then cast a protective boundary.
Rome layered in a thin barrier—more like a sensor. If anything breached it, it would wake him instantly.
Sight and Lily went to place traps outside the defensive perimeter.
Earp took charge of cooking, while Ace went out and brought back a wild boar.
Earp’s hands moved with the effortless precision of a master chef—slice, separate, carve. Every cut was clean, efficient, almost surgical.
Spencer swallowed hard, a ridiculous thought crawling into his head.
“If that kid can do that to a boar… then what if it were a person…? Ah... no. No. Stop.”
Tonight’s watch rotation was Ace, Sight, and Earp.
For Sight, drinking until sunrise was just a normal night.
For Earp, staying awake for days on end was a kind of training he’d done often as a child.
Meanwhile, Mary lay inside her tent… surrounded by an absurd amount of protection: talismans, crosses, rosaries—up to and including three stacked layers of a high-grade holy spell, Holy Sanctuarium (!?)
And yet she still tossed and turned, terrified of ghosts anyway.
One night passed peacefully.
Nothing unusual happened.
The journey continued smoothly for three days and three nights. Strangers appeared now and then, but it never became an issue.
Everything ended quickly—every time.
But then…
One of the horses pulling the wagons suddenly collapsed—out cold, for no obvious reason.
An arrow was lodged in its flank, and taped to the shaft was a small paper sleeve. Inside, a scrap of paper carried two short lines:
“Leave the wagons behind.
Run.”
The convoy froze.
Confusion and caution slammed into the air at the same time. And before anyone could even react—
The ground around them flared.
A massive magic circle lit up beneath the convoy, its glowing lines spiraling like an ancient coiled shell. Then—
In an instant, every person on every wagon was ripped away from their seats.
They reappeared sitting in a ring in the middle of an open dirt clearing—bound with rope in the span of a heartbeat.
Nearly ten men dressed in black stepped forward. The bandits revealed themselves, voices flat and cold.
“Don’t resist. If it isn’t necessary, we won’t kill anyone. We’ll take what we want and leave.”
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He paused, the threat settling like weight.
“We used to be Rank A adventurers. This is a different level. Best thing you can do… is sit still.”
The calmness in that voice made the atmosphere turn thick.
Spencer’s attendants panicked, struggling against the ropes—yet it was as if an invisible hand pressed down on their hearts, forcing their breathing and pulse to slow.
But Ace’s party of seven?
They sat there completely composed. No thrashing. No whining. Not even a twitch.
Their expressions were blank—like people who already knew what was coming next.
The criminals eyed them with mild surprise. Then they began inspecting each wagon’s cargo.
Professional. Unhurried. No frantic grabbing.
It looked like the practiced work of men who really had crossed blades with high-rank adventurers before.
“Wait! I remember now!”
Sight’s voice burst out into the silence of their capture.
Ace narrowed his eyes at him immediately.
“What is it now? You remember something?”
He squinted.
“Don’t tell me you forgot your booze.”
Sight looked like he’d just received the best news of the century.
“The night before we left the city! I was drinking and accidentally overheard some guys talking about robbing a merchant convoy some dungeon-mining guy.”
His grin widened, delighted with himself.
“They said the whole crew were Rank A… Ohhh, so that’s what this was! That means it’s definitely this convoy, right! I finally remembered! Yay~”
Ace exploded.
“Are you out of your mind!? You were supposed to tell us before it happened! Not now while we’re tied up like this!?”
Sight laughed.
“I mean, it’s been bugging me for like three, four days what I’d forgotten. At first I thought I was just drunk and hallucinating.”
He laughed again, absurdly relieved.
“Haha… I’m honestly so glad I finally remembered~”
A shout cut in from the bandits.
“Hey! What the hell are you talking about!? I said sit there and shut up!!”
…But then—
All seven members of the party stood up at the same time.
The ropes binding their wrists slipped loose with a soft ffft—as if they’d never been tied at all.
The truth was, long ago, Earp had casually taught them—almost like a joke:
“If you ever get tied up one day, just untie it like this. It’s easy. No need to dislocate your joints and hurt yourselves.”
And every single one of them remembered.
The bandits’ eyes flew wide in shock.
One of them rushed Earp, thinking the youngest-looking one would be the easiest target—
Wrong.
In a single blink, the weapon in that bandit’s hand was gone—now resting in Earp’s own grip. And the bandit himself was bound up with the exact same rope, neatly wrapped like a grilled pork parcel.
The rest charged together, but Earp, Sight, and Ace countered so fast it was hard to even follow. Bandit bodies went rolling across the clearing as easily as if this were just a light stretch before bed.
“Knew it would go like this.”
A voice spoke from behind them.
Then came footsteps—more than twenty people—appearing all around the convoy at once. Shadows closed in. The wagons were surrounded.
A blade was pressed to Spencer’s throat.
One of the men at the front stepped forward—dark-skinned, expression blank, yet giving off a strange, unsettling aura. His voice was cold.
“So the Rank S party really did take this job.”
Another voice from the bandit group—softer, almost mild—answered with the same chill.
“Bait, then? A Rank A crew wouldn’t be that pathetic.”
Sight, standing nearby, replied without a hint of concern.
“Of course. Everyone knows those guys were bottom-tier.”
He shrugged as if they were discussing the weather.
“I let them go first to test the waters. If the escorts weren’t high-rank, we wouldn’t even have needed to move.”
The leader circled them, studying Ace, Earp, and the others with focused attention.
Then he stopped in front of Earp—especially Earp.
“I’ve been watching since we left the city,”
he said.
“I remember every exchange.”
His eyes narrowed.
“That one… isn’t an ordinary kid at all, is he.”
As he spoke, he let the sword slide against Spencer’s neck—slowly, deliberately.
The edge scraped skin until fresh blood welled up, running down in a thin red line.
Ace stayed still, but his eyes never dropped. His voice was flat.
“What do you want?”
The bandit leader curled his lips into a sneering smile and answered without haste.
“What a stupid question. We’re bandits we rob.”
He spoke like a man reciting something obvious.
“I already know how wide the gap is between Rank A and Rank S. I’m not crazy enough to charge in and fight head on.”
His tone remained almost polite in its arrogance.
“I just want what’s in those wagons. If you don’t interfere, I’ll take only that. Cleanly. Then I’ll leave.”
The blade at Spencer’s throat moved—smoothly, almost lazily—drawing a slow cut so a single drop of blood fell onto the cloth.
The air felt suspended by a thread.
Silence. Tension. The kind of certainty that at any second, everything could flip into murder.
Rome—who had been standing quietly the entire time—stepped forward, slowly placing himself directly in front of Spencer.
“Hey don’t, Rome!”
Ace shouted, alarmed.
“He’ll kill Mr. Spencer!”
Rome didn’t even look back. His reply was calm.
“So what… I’m tired of putting up with this.”
The bandit holding Spencer froze.
Their entire plan was built on using a hostage to lock down a Rank S party. But the man in front of them was walking forward without fear—like he was challenging them to do it.
“Everyone! Take him down!”
the leader barked.
The moment his men rushed in, the outcome flipped upside down.
Blades. Impacts. Spells—everything they threw was reflected straight back at them, like the world had inverted.
Screams erupted as the attacks rebounded at full force.
Rome’s skill—Reflection—returned it all at 100%.
The leader, suddenly losing control, spun back to finish Spencer as quickly as possible—
But then—
“Stop, boss! Don’t do it please! Let me go!”
The voice sounded like Spencer’s.
The leader looked down—
And saw that the person under his blade wasn’t Spencer at all.
It was his own subordinate.
His eyes widened.
In the fraction of a second where his focus slipped, Earp had switched Spencer out—cleanly, without a trace.
“You !”
He didn’t get to say another word.
Rome, already waiting for the opening, formed a protective gauntlet over his fist—
and drove a full-powered punch into the leader’s face.
One hit.
The man crashed to the ground, instantly ruined.
The remaining bandits were all locked in place as Lily cast binding magic, restraining them completely. Then Ace and Sight moved in and snapped handcuffs onto them—handcuffs Valda had made on the spot by using a skill to restructure the bandits’ own weapons.
Chains clinked and rattled—
and the fight ended.
Mary rushed to Spencer, treated the tiny wound, and healed it until it disappeared completely.
Then Rome spoke again, coldly, glancing down at the leader lying motionless on the earth.
“Spencer’s scarf… it’s too cheap. It doesn’t suit a rich man.”
His tone sharpened with quiet certainty.
“And the stitching is crude. It was probably handmade by someone in his family. A wife… or a daughter.”
Rome’s eyes narrowed.
“And something that important you stained it.”
He turned away, dismissive.
“Sit there and wait until the guards come to take you.”
After that, they gathered their gear, reorganized the convoy, and continued the journey—leaving every bandit behind in the forest to await capture.
It would probably take another three or four days for officials to arrive, since Sight had already sent his hawk to notify the capital.
Three days passed, and the convoy finally arrived at Freyja—a city surrounded by an immense sea of forest.
The land here was so fertile and abundant that it was famed as one of the kingdom’s richest regions in natural resources. But beauty always came with a price. Deep within those woods, the number of monsters was just as overwhelming as the greenery itself.
Once the journey was complete, Spencer handed a small business card to Valda and Ace.
“In case you ever need help,”
he said with a smile,
“I’ll be happy to support you fully.”
Then he also gave them an additional sum of money as a personal token of gratitude—just as he’d promised. He didn’t want to pay the guild an inflated fee; he preferred to reward the adventurers who had truly protected him, directly.
Ace and the others accepted it without complaint and headed to the local guild branch to submit their quest report.
After they finished, the guild staff shared information that made everyone fall silent for a moment:
Those bandits they’d encountered on the road really were former adventurers. They’d once taken escort jobs themselves—until they turned dirty, staging robberies and profiting from their own ambushes. The guild eventually discovered the scheme and stripped them of their adventurer status.
Inside Freyja’s central guild hall, Ace’s party sat around a table as they always did after completing a quest.
But today, something strange slipped into the room—an unsettling rumor.
A rumor about the Demon Clans.
In the world they lived in, the Demon Lord had supposedly been destroyed two thousand years ago by the legendary hero’s party. All that remained now were ancient monuments and stories—retold either as inspirational folklore… or as political tools.
As for real historical records?
Almost none were made available for ordinary people to read.
Ace’s party neither believed the rumor outright nor dismissed it. But in their entire adventuring lives, they had never encountered a demon even once.
Because according to common belief, the demons lived in a wasteland known as Muspel—a forbidden zone shrouded in dense magical particles and brutal weather, a place so inhospitable that ordinary humans couldn’t pass through it.
So the demon clans remained like a secret hidden beyond the horizon—fading out of history, half-myth, half-silence.
Even though many races in this world were allied on paper—humans of the Vanir Kingdom, dwarves of Nida, elves of the great forest realm Alf, and the half-beasts of Jotun—trade and exchange were routine.
But in reality, it wasn’t as though everyone truly accepted one another with open hearts.
Small conflicts still smoldered constantly, beneath the surface.
“Heh. Heh… the Demon Lord, you say? In truth, he was nothing but a tiny little underling of mine, you foolish adventurers!”
Lily declared it with overflowing confidence. Her eyes glittered in two different colors—one blue, one vivid red.
Even though they were just colored contact lenses.
Earp, who’d been quietly listening the whole time, tilted his head and asked in a level voice,
“These demon clans… would they count as sinful beings, too? Miss Mary?”
Mary blinked a little, then answered—uncertain.
“Mm… I’m not sure, either. The scriptures don’t really mention demon clans at all. Most of the time they talk about ‘demons’ in general…”
Ace quickly waved a hand, brushing the creeping tension away.
“Whatever! If there’s a chance, we’ll see them with our own eyes sooner or later.”
Then he asked everyone for their opinions.
“So… should we stay here a while longer, or head straight back to the capital?”
Rome lifted a small brass mirror and checked his reflection.
“Wherever we stay, I don’t really care.”
Lily spun her staff in her hand and let out a soft laugh.
“If we’re going back, I can just warp us there. We’ve all got magic resistance anyway easy.”
She smirked.
“It’s normal people who’d turn into porridge.”
Valda smiled gently.
“Let’s stay and relax for another two or three days first. My body still feels sore.”
Ace nodded, then turned and shouted to Sight, who was drinking with another party nearby.
“Hey, Sight! What do you think wanna stay longer?”
Sight lifted his glass and replied instantly.
“Where there's love, there's sorrow… but wherever there’s a fun party, I’ll definitely be thereeeeeee!”
Ace let out a small sigh and concluded,
“Alright. Three days, then we head back. Lily don’t forget to get a map. If we’re warping, and you land us in the wrong spot again, it’ll be a total disaster.”
Lily lifted her chin and went heh-heh again.
“My brain can remember even the number of grains of sand on the ground every single one! Coordinates for a major city? A map is completely unnecessary.”
“We need one!”
Ace shouted back.
“Don’t you remember last time you dropped us in the middle of the ocean!? We only survived because a cargo ship happened to pass by. If not, we’d have been screwed!”
“Heh. Heh… that was a trial, obviously!”
Lily doubled down, her voice firm.
Ace smacked his forehead—whap!
“A trial my ass! Alright, alright go! Everyone, disperse!”
And just like that, laughter burst out around the table.
They split up to rest in the city of Freyja—ready to reunite again three days later.