"Then, to confirm… I will accept Nfirea Bareare's request. Because we lack manpower, I will hire the members of the Swords of Darkness to accompany us as guards. Is that correct?"
Momon—Momonga—summarized the agreement.
Both Nfirea and the four adventurers nodded.
Nfirea's request was simple:
Escort him while he collected herbs in the forest near Carne Village.
Why had he specifically chosen a beginner copper-rank adventurer like Momon?
His explanation was straightforward:
He'd seen her briefly at the shop yesterday—her armor, her bearing—and thought "This one looks trustworthy."
She was copper-rank, so the fee was cheap.
She looked strong.
No red flags.
Momonga accepted.
Of course, while she was individually the strongest existence in the region, escorting a weak noncombatant was a delicate task. Protecting others required a skillset distinct from killing everything instantly.
Thus she hired the Swords of Darkness—who did have a druid and a ranger—to compensate for areas she couldn't risk exposing.
The contract was simple:
Momon would take zero reward from Nfirea.
All monster materials gathered on the way would go entirely to the Swords.
A loss financially, yes.
But she didn't care about money—she cared about information, and observing silver-rank adventurers was worth far more.
Having satisfied both sides, the group departed E-Rantel before noon—Momon, Nfirea, and the Swords—bound for Carne Village.
Several hours later…
Far behind them, in the Adventurer's Guild of E-Rantel—
The guildmaster, Pluton Ainzach, finished reviewing documents while waiting for a certain visitor. His desk was stacked with paperwork—proof of a workload that never seemed to shrink.
He sighed.
(…This mysterious female warrior, Momon…)
Every guild staff member had been buzzing about her since yesterday.
A copper-rank newbie—yet clad in magnificent black full plate armor, carrying a massive kite shield and a greatsword, and rumored to use third-tier magic.
And a woman.
No wonder she became the talk of the town overnight.
But Ainzach had not yet seen her in person.
By coincidence, both yesterday and today, he had missed her by minutes.
He clicked his tongue.
(The Swords of Darkness are with her now… they should be able to judge whether she's the real thing or a fraud.)
Even he found her supposed abilities hard to believe.
After decades of watching adventurers rise and fall, he knew how rare true prodigies were.
"A new hero born in E-Rantel… or just a fancy con artist?" he muttered.
If someone truly wielded both warrior strength and third‐tier spellcasting, they would be a future Adamantite adventurer without question.
The Swords' report would determine everything.
He reached for his pen—
Knock, knock.
Right on time.
"Yo, Ainzach."
"Rakeshir! Been a while—you look well."
The man entering was Theo Rakeshir, head of the Magic Caster's Guild of E-Rantel.
Unlike the muscular Ainzach, Rakeshir was slim, clad in a mage's robe.
They were old teammates—former adventurers—and now friendly rival guildmasters.
After exchanging a firm handshake, they sat opposite each other with tea.
"You look busy as always," Rakeshir said.
"Same to you. I can tell from your face that your side's no picnic either."
Rakeshir smirked. "Straight to business, huh?"
"Look at this mountain of paperwork," Ainzach said, gesturing. "If I don't get to the point, I'll drown."
"Fair enough. Before the main topic, there's something I want to ask…" Rakeshir said.
"If it's about rare magic items, the answer is no," Ainzach replied dryly.
"That's disappointing, but no. What I want to ask is about a certain new female adventurer—Momon."
Ainzach blinked.
"Seriously? You too, Rakeshir?"
"Of course. The guild is full of rumors. A warrior in pitch-black full plate who can cast third-tier spells? That's headline material."
"Full plate… third-tier… That's hero-class, if true," Ainzach murmured.
Rakeshir continued.
"So? How much do you actually know about her?"
"Just what everyone else knows. A beautiful warrior with overblown specs."
"Then you don't know what's inside that armor, do you?"
"You mean you've seen her face?" Ainzach leaned forward. "What kind of person is she?"
Rakeshir sighed deeply.
"…She's incredible."
Ainzach frowned. "Details, Rakeshir. That tells me nothing."
Rakeshir inhaled, choosing his words.
"Her presence is overwhelming. Everyone at the Golden Glow Inn froze when they saw her."
Ainzach blinked. Beauty?
He hadn't expected that.
Rakeshir continued, voice gaining earnest gravity:
"She has hair like polished obsidian. Skin like white silk. Her face—divine. Truly. A goddess or an angel. No exaggeration."
"…A goddess-level beauty? That good?"
"That good."
Ainzach found himself stunned.
He had assumed "impressive" meant "scary," "muscular," "intimidating."
He hadn't expected "breathtakingly beautiful."
"And not just beautiful," Rakeshir continued. "Her elegance—her manner of speech, her posture, her gestures—everything exudes noble refinement."
Ainzach raised both eyebrows.
"So… not a commoner."
"Not in the slightest. Her dress alone was of a quality even royalty might hesitate to wear."
Rakeshir then recounted her confrontation with Philip—the full story, dramatized with gestures—the moment Momon had called the noble "a filthy wretch" without blinking.
The tale was so absurd Ainzach almost laughed.
"…Amazing. Honestly, I'd suspect you were spinning tales if I didn't know you better."
"I suspected hallucination myself," Rakeshir admitted. "But she insisted she was a commoner and a copper-rank adventurer. That part was the most unbelievable."
Ainzach rubbed his temples.
"And she dared call a noble 'a filthy wretch'… Only a very high-ranking lady could get away with that."
Rakeshir nodded firmly.
"I'm convinced she's either nobility or royalty from a distant land. Her equipment alone could be national treasure–class. And she casually booked the Golden Glow Inn's royal suite without checking the price."
"…Without asking the price!?" Ainzach choked.
Ainzach finally exhaled.
"…So it's decided, then."
They both came to the same conclusion:
Momon is overwhelmingly likely to be a noblewoman—or even a princess—from a distant nation, travelling incognito.
A mysterious beauty cloaked in power and wealth.
Both men could only wonder:
Who in the world is she?