One night, as they finished another spar session, the wind cool and stars bright—
Daphne looked at Valen, wiping sweat from her neck.
Daphne:
"We're finally B-rank now.
It's time, Valen. Isn't it?
Your big goal — to travel farther, to get stronger…"
Valen nodded.
Valen:
"Yes. Our true journey begins now."
Lyra grinned, leaning on her spear.
Lyra:
"Took you long enough, Captain."
Elliot raised his staff proudly.
Elliot:
"Let's go! To wherever danger pays well!"
Valen looked at them — his first true comrades.
The weight of guilt, sorrow, and loneliness he carried for a year…
felt lighter.
Valen:
"Then prepare yourselves.
Our next destination won't be easy."
Their smiles widened.
And under the rising moon, the four of them stood united—
stronger, sharper, and ready for the world ahead.
For days now, a single job posting had been sitting untouched on the A-Rank board.
No one approached it.
No one asked about it.
No one even glanced its direction for more than a few seconds.
But Valen did.
From the moment he saw it, he knew:
"This is the quest we're taking when we hit B-Rank."
And now…
after one full year of grinding through countless missions,
after blood, bruises, and sleepless nights…
They finally reached B-Rank.
Normally, B-Rank teams avoided A-Rank jobs at all costs.
It was suicidal.
Foolish.
But sometimes—just sometimes—
a B-Rank team would take one…
and if they returned alive:
their rank would immediately rise,
and they would receive a special reward from the Adventurer's Guild.
Valen wasn't interested in the reward.
He wanted the place.
The job:
A long-term, one-year escort contract for the Mazze Merchant Group,
protecting their caravans and property throughout the Azerion Domain.
The pay:
300 gold coins per person per year.
Enough to change the life of any adventurer.
But everyone knew the truth:
Azerion Domain was a graveyard.
No laws.
No gods.
No kingdoms.
Only—
money,
blood,
and the strong.
Azerion was divided into three notorious regions:
1) Neutral Zones – The Grey Towns
Full of wandering merchants, mercenary gangs, rogue spellcasters, ex-soldiers, and every kind of organized crime imaginable.
This was where sinners hid… and saints died.
2) The Black Woods
A cursed wilderness crawling with twisted lifeforms:
Shadow Wolves – black-eyed predators that hunted in packs
Marrow Bears – giant bone-plated beasts
Vein Serpents – red, pulsating scaled serpents
Ghoul Stalkers – night-hunting humanoids
Feral Demons – weak alone, terrifying in swarms
No sane adventurer willingly stepped here.
3) Forsaken Roads
Merchant routes that devoured caravans whole.
It was said only 40% of convoys ever made it across.
And yet, Valen tore the job poster from the board with calm confidence
and brought it to his team.
Daphne buried her face in her hands.
"You're always like this…"
she groaned.
Lyra burst out laughing.
Elliot's voice cracked.
"I—I don't know, Valen. Are we really ready?
A Tier-A contract? A whole year? That's… a lot."
Lyra slapped Elliot on the back.
"You'll be fine, Arc Mage."
That one comment alone seemed to give Elliot the courage of ten men.
Valen looked at all of them—
the friends he had bled with,
laughed with,
grown with.
His voice was steady.
Firm.
Reassuring.
"Over this past year,"
Valen said quietly,
"I've seen how far we've come. All of us."
His teammates fell silent.
**"And I know—without a single doubt—
that we can survive a year in Azerion.
We'll return alive.
We'll return stronger.
And every guild, every merchant, every noble in the north will know our name."**
He raised the poster slightly.
"So trust me.
One more time."
For a moment, nobody said anything.
Then Daphne smiled.
A soft, genuine smile.
"You really know how to light a fire in people, Valen.
I'm in. I trust you completely."
Lyra nodded immediately.
Elliot, though nervous, clenched his fist.
"If you believe we can do it… then I won't hold us back."
The decision was made.
All four walked together into the guild hall,
straight to the clerk's desk,
ready to sign the papers that would send them into the Dominion.
Into danger.
Into chaos.
Into destiny.
The quest that would change their lives forever.
Clerk was shocked.
Her face went pale as she leaned forward over the counter.
"AZERIUM DOMAIN?!"
The moment those words left her mouth, the entire guild fell silent.
Cards stopped being stamped, mugs stopped clinking, and every adventurer turned to look at Valen and his group.
Whispers erupted instantly.
"Did she say Azerium?"
"That's suicide…"
"A B-rank group? They won't last a week…"
"Are they insane?"
The clerk swallowed hard.
"A-Are you sure, Young Master Valen?"
Her voice trembled.
"This job is extremely dangerous. Many A-rankers avoid it."
Valen stood calm as a still lake.
He simply nodded.
"Yes, I'm sure, Mrs. Clerk. Please give us the information we need so we can begin preparing."
The clerk hesitated, then opened a dusty ledger and began explaining:
The contract lasts one full year.
Payment: 300 gold coins per person.
Their contractor, Mazze Merchant Group, will meet them in the Neutral Zone, at a tavern called The 12th Son.
After signing with the merchant group, their escort duties begin immediately.
Valen's party listened carefully.
When the explanation ended, they thanked the clerk and turned to leave.
More whispers followed them out the door:
"A B-rank group! Hah—what a joke."
"They won't even reach the border."
"Kids who don't know what fear is…"
Valen ignored all of it.
Outside, he gathered the party.
"Prepare for the journey. We leave when the sun sets. That gives you four hours. Don't be late."
He turned to walk away—
"Even though you're the one always late, huh?"
Lyra shouted with a grin.
Valen stopped, glanced back, and smiled helplessly.
Daphne burst out laughing.
Elliot nearly choked on air.
And just like that—the tension broke.
They separated, each heading in a different direction through the busy streets of Trade Town, mentally preparing for the long road ahead… a road that would test their strength, their bond, and their fate.
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