Stoneridge
The frontier town of Stoneridge lived up to its name. Built at the edge of a massive stone ridge that rose abruptly from the surrounding plains, the settlement served as the last outpost of civilization before the untamed wilderness of the Western Territories. Its buildings were a mix of sturdy stone foundations topped with wooden upper stories, the architecture practical rather than decorative. The streets bustled with a diverse array of people—merchants organizing caravans, farmers bringing produce to market, adventurers seeking contracts, and locals going about their daily business.
Marcus had arrived three days ago after a week of travel on the Western Road. His first priority had been securing lodging—a small room above a tavern called The Wayfarer's Rest, rented by the week at a rate that wouldn't deplete his limited funds too quickly. His second priority was information gathering, which had led him to spend hours in the tavern below, listening to conversations and occasionally asking carefully considered questions.
Now, on his fourth day in Stoneridge, he had a clear objective: establish his identity and prepare for frontier work.
[Status Update] [Name: Marcus (aka "Phoenix")] [Age: 10 years, 7 months] [Level: 47] [HP: 325/325] [MP: 610/610] [Strength: 74] [Dexterity: 90] [Constitution: 71] [Intelligence: 109] [Wisdom: 94] [Charisma: 59] [Selected Skills:]
[Aura Projection: Level 29][Aura Control: Level 32][Counter-Magic: Level 27][Aura Weaponry: Level 26][Magical Theory: Level 23][Magical Insight: Level 21][Combat Movement: Level 20][Undead Insight: Level 2][Phylactery Disruption: Level 2][Strategic Analysis: Level 16]
Looking at himself in the small mirror in his room, Marcus frowned. Despite his impressive abilities, his physical appearance remained that of a child. His youthful face and small stature would immediately raise questions about his age and capabilities. No frontier guild or company would take him seriously as he was.
"I need to look older," he muttered, studying his reflection critically.
The solution was obvious, if not immediately appealing. He had accumulated unspent stat points from his recent level gains. Traditionally, he preferred allocating these to Intelligence and Wisdom to enhance his aura abilities, but his current situation demanded a different approach.
[Unallocated Stat Points: 15] [Allocating Stat Points] [Strength: 74 → 89 (+15 points)] [Allocation Complete]
The effect was immediately noticeable. His slender frame filled out with lean muscle, his shoulders broadened slightly, and his overall stature seemed to increase. He still appeared young, but now could reasonably pass for fourteen or fifteen rather than ten—especially with the right clothing and attitude.
The physiological changes were accompanied by a rush of physical strength that felt almost intoxicating. Simple movements carried new power behind them. When he experimentally lifted his travel pack, the weight seemed trivial compared to before.
[System Message: From scrawny kid to buff preteen in seconds. If only puberty was this convenient for everyone!]
With his enhanced physique, Marcus headed to his next destination: the armorer's district. His Academy training uniform was distinctive and would immediately connect him to Emberfall, which he wanted to avoid. More importantly, it offered minimal protection compared to proper combat armor.
The bell above the door jingled as he entered "Stonehammer Armory," a well-established shop recommended by the innkeeper. The interior was warm from the forge in the back room, the walls lined with various weapons and armor pieces ranging from practical to ornate.
"Be with you in a moment!" called a gruff voice from the back.
Marcus took the opportunity to browse, examining the available armor sets. Near the back wall, he spotted a promising option—a set of light leather armor with enchanted metal plates strategically positioned to protect vital areas without sacrificing mobility.
"Looking for something specific?" The armorer appeared, wiping his hands on a cloth. A stocky dwarven man with a massive beard streaked with gray, he assessed Marcus with professional interest. "Don't often get aura-types in here. Usually you lot prefer lighter protection."
"I need something durable that won't interfere with aura projection," Marcus explained, impressed that the dwarf had immediately identified his specialty. "For dungeon exploration."
The dwarf nodded approvingly. "Smart. Too many think they can stay out of harm's way in those death-traps." He gestured toward the set Marcus had been examining. "That might suit. Scout armor, enchanted with lightweight and durability runes. Made it for a ranger who never came back to claim it." His expression darkened momentarily. "Dungeons claim many."
Marcus examined the armor more closely. The quality was evident—fine leather treated for water resistance, metal plates of an unusual bluish alloy, buckles and straps arranged for quick donning and removal.
"May I?" he asked, gesturing to try it on.
"Go ahead," the armorer agreed. "Should fit someone your size, with minor adjustments."
The armor fit surprisingly well, requiring only slight alterations to accommodate Marcus's frame. The enchantments were impressive—the metal plates weighed far less than they should, and the leather seemed to adjust to his movements as if alive.
"The blue metal," Marcus inquired, "what is it?"
"Skyforge steel," the dwarf answered. "Rare alloy, conducts aura energy rather than blocking it. Good for your type." He eyed Marcus with renewed interest. "Counter-specialist, aren't you? Recognized the aura signature."
Marcus nodded, surprised by the accurate assessment.
"Thought so. In that case..." The armorer disappeared into the back room, returning with a small box. "Consider these a complement to the set." He opened the box to reveal a pair of bracers made from the same blue metal, inscribed with complex runes. "Projection amplifiers. Will extend your counter-range by about twenty percent."
Marcus tried not to show his excitement. Such items were rare and typically reserved for advanced practitioners. "Those would significantly increase the price," he noted cautiously.
The dwarf grunted. "Ordinarily, yes. But I've had that armor sitting here for over a year, and these bracers are customized for counter-work specifically. Limited market." He named a price that, while still substantial, was far less than Marcus had expected for such quality.
"Why so reasonable?" Marcus asked suspiciously.
The dwarf's eyes crinkled. "Two reasons. First, it's sized for someone small like yourself—limited buyers. Second..." He tapped a finger against his temple. "I recognize quality when I see it. You've got unusual training for someone your age."
"Fair enough," Marcus agreed, deciding not to press his luck.
"Plus," the armorer added more quietly, "frontier needs more counter-specialists. Too many dungeons appearing that shouldn't be. Ancient places waking up after centuries."
That caught Marcus's interest. "What kind of dungeons?"
The dwarf shook his head. "Not my place to say more. Just know that armor might save your life, and those bracers might save others. Worth every coin."
Decision made, Marcus negotiated a slight further discount and left the shop wearing his new acquisition. The armor moved with him as if custom-made, the enchantments integrating seamlessly with his aura when he tested a small projection. The bracers, when activated, created a subtle resonance that extended his counter-field just as promised.
[New Equipment Acquired!] [Scout Armor Set (Enchanted)] [Defense: +25] [Mobility: Unrestricted] [Special: 15% reduction to physical damage]
[Counter Bracers (Rare)] [Effect: 20% increased counter-magic range] [Special: 10% reduced MP cost for counter projections] [Requirement: Counter-Magic Skill Level 15+]
His next stop was more delicate—a visit to a document forger. Through careful inquiries and a substantial bribe to the right tavern keeper, Marcus had secured a referral to a "specialist in paperwork" operating out of a small shop ostensibly selling maps and travel guides.
The proprietor, a thin man with spectacles and ink-stained fingers, studied Marcus thoroughly before agreeing to speak in the back room.
"Age documentation, is it?" the man asked without preamble once they were alone. "Not the first young one looking to start adventuring early."
"That obvious?" Marcus asked.
"To a trained eye," the forger replied with a thin smile. "Though I must say, you carry yourself better than most. What age are we aiming for?"
"Sixteen," Marcus decided. Young enough to explain his smaller stature, but old enough to legally take contracts.
The forger nodded, already pulling out papers and inks. "Background?"
"Independent aura practitioner, counter-magic specialty, trained in the North."
"Family?"
"None living."
"Easier that way," the forger noted, beginning his work with practiced efficiency. "No uncomfortable questions when you show up places alone."
The cost was steep—nearly a third of Marcus's remaining funds—but the result was impressive. A complete identity package, including birth documentation, training certification, and even a letter of recommendation from a fictional northern master.
"This will withstand scrutiny from guild officials and local authorities," the forger explained as he handed over the documents. "Not a royal investigation, mind you, but more than adequate for frontier work."
"Thank you," Marcus said, tucking the papers securely into his pack.
"Word of advice," the forger offered as Marcus prepared to leave. "The documents will open doors, but it's your abilities that keep them open. Don't take on more than you can handle out there. Dungeons don't care how old your papers say you are."
With his identity established and equipment secured, only one task remained before he could begin seeking work: his first monthly report to the Academy. The communication crystal felt heavy in his pocket as he returned to his room at the tavern, a reminder of the obligations that still tied him to Emberfall.
Sitting cross-legged on his bed, Marcus activated the crystal with a pulse of aura. After a moment, it glowed blue, indicating an active connection.
"Monthly report, Phoenix," he stated formally. "Location: Stoneridge. Status: Secure lodging established, beginning research into regional magical phenomena. Current activities: Information gathering, establishing local contacts. No significant situations encountered."
It wasn't entirely untrue—he was in Stoneridge, he had secured lodging, and he hadn't yet encountered any significant situations. He simply omitted his forged documents and plans to take dungeon contracts, knowing the Academy would likely disapprove and possibly attempt to recall him if they knew.
The crystal pulsed once, recording his message, then went dormant. He tucked it away, feeling a twinge of guilt that he quickly suppressed. This was necessary for the freedom he needed to gain real experience.
[System Message: Ah, the time-honored tradition of telling authority figures exactly what they want to hear. You're adapting to independence nicely!]
The Contract
"The Howling Depths," Marcus read from the contract posting on the Adventurer's Guild board. "Newly discovered dungeon, five miles northeast of town. Previous expedition failed to return. Reward for mapping first level and determining fate of missing party."
The guild hall was crowded with the usual mix of adventurers, mercenaries, and contractors—a rowdy, diverse crowd that filled the large chamber with the sounds of boasting, haggling, and occasional arguments. Marcus had been observing the contract board for two days, evaluating available jobs and listening to conversations about which were legitimate opportunities and which were likely deathtraps.
"You don't want that one, kid," a gruff voice said from behind him.
Marcus turned to find a weathered man in his thirties, wearing battered but well-maintained armor and the distinctive badge of a registered mercenary.
"Too dangerous?" Marcus asked.
"Too complicated," the man replied. "Mercenary Guild and Adventurer's Guild are fighting over jurisdiction. Both sent parties in already."
"I thought dungeons were typically adventurer territory," Marcus said, recalling information he'd gathered at the tavern.
"Usually, yes. But this one's different. Appeared suddenly three weeks ago, right in the middle of what used to be a major trade route. Merchants' Association contracted the Mercenary Guild to clear and secure it. Adventurer's Guild claims all dungeons fall under their purview regardless."
"So both groups are inside now?" Marcus clarified.
The man nodded. "Third mercenary team went in yesterday when the second didn't report back. Adventurers sent another party this morning. It's going to be a mess in there—assuming any of them are still alive."
This sparked Marcus's interest rather than deterring him. A complex situation involving potentially hostile human elements alongside typical dungeon threats would provide valuable experience in navigating both combat and diplomatic challenges.
"Thank you for the information," Marcus said. "I'll consider it carefully."
The man shrugged. "Your funeral, kid."
After the mercenary moved away, Marcus approached the guild clerk to inquire about the contract. The clerk, a harried-looking woman with an impressive network of facial scars, eyed his youthful appearance skeptically but checked his forged documentation without comment.
"Solo registration for a dungeon contract?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "Brave or foolish, one of the two."
"Calculated risk," Marcus replied. "I have specialization in counter-magic that's particularly effective against dungeon hazards."
The clerk seemed unconvinced but continued processing his registration. "Standard contract terms. Half payment on confirmed mapping of first level, remaining half on verifiable information about missing parties. Guild takes fifteen percent. Magical hazards likely, undead possible, territorial disputes with Mercenary Guild guaranteed."
"Understood and accepted," Marcus confirmed.
"Your funeral," the clerk echoed the mercenary's sentiment, stamping the contract. "Report back within three days or you'll be listed as another missing party."
With the contract secured, Marcus spent the remainder of the day gathering supplies and intelligence. Through careful conversations at the tavern and a few well-placed silver coins, he assembled a reasonably clear picture of what he was facing:
The Howling Depths had appeared without warning, a massive stone doorway emerging from the ground in what had previously been an ordinary hillside along a merchant route. Initial exploration revealed a labyrinthine complex of ancient stone corridors, chambers, and artifacts of unknown origin. Strange sounds—like distant howling winds—echoed throughout the structure, giving the dungeon its name.
The first adventuring party (three individuals) had entered two weeks ago and never returned. The Merchants' Association, concerned about the impact on trade, had contracted the Mercenary Guild to secure the site. Two mercenary teams (four members each) had subsequently disappeared. The Adventurer's Guild, angered by what they perceived as encroachment on their territory, had sent their own elite team (five members) just yesterday.
Most recently, a third mercenary team had been dispatched, explicitly tasked with finding their missing comrades rather than exploring the dungeon itself.
The situation was volatile, dangerous, and exactly the kind of complex challenge Marcus needed to test himself beyond Academy parameters.
The next morning, he set out at dawn, following the marked trail northeast from Stoneridge. The journey took just over two hours at a steady pace, the terrain gradually rising as he approached a range of low hills covered in sparse vegetation.
The dungeon entrance was impossible to miss once he crested the final hill. A massive doorway of dark stone, easily twenty feet tall, protruded from the hillside as if it had always been there. The stone itself was unusual—a deep obsidian-like material veined with faint purple markings that seemed to shift subtly when viewed from different angles.
No one stood guard outside, though signs of recent activity were evident—trampled vegetation, discarded supply wrappers, and the remains of a small campfire. More concerning were the dark stains on the ground near the entrance that Marcus suspected were dried blood.
Before entering, he performed a thorough check of the area, using his aura sense to detect any magical traps or wards. The entire doorway radiated a low-level magical signature unlike anything he'd encountered before—ancient and somehow... patient, as if the structure had been waiting for visitors for a very long time.
[Aura Sense Active] [Anomalous Magical Structure Detected] [Classification: Unknown Ancient Construction] [Warning: Non-standard magical signatures present]
Activating his counter bracers as a precaution, Marcus approached the entrance. The massive doors stood partially open, revealing a darkened passage beyond. From within came the faint sound that had given the dungeon its name—a distant howling that somehow carried notes of both wind through stone corridors and something more disturbing, almost like distant voices.
With a final check of his equipment and a steadying breath, Marcus stepped through the doorway and into the Howling Depths.
The air inside was surprisingly cool and dry, carrying the scent of ancient stone and something else—a metallic tang that reminded him of the distinctive smell of active magical workings. His light crystal illuminated a wide entrance hall with high ceilings and walls decorated with unfamiliar symbols. Multiple corridors led deeper into the complex, each marked by arch-shaped doorways carved with different runes.
Marcus began methodically mapping the entrance hall and adjacent passages, carefully noting the rune patterns and any distinguishing features. His aura sense remained active, alert for both magical hazards and signs of the previous expeditions.
He had progressed perhaps a hundred yards down the central corridor when he detected signs of recent conflict—scorch marks on the walls consistent with combat magic, a broken sword lying abandoned, and more alarming, a spattered blood trail leading further inward.
Following the blood trail cautiously, Marcus soon heard voices echoing from ahead—angry, confrontational human voices rather than the dungeon's eerie howling. Extinguishing his light crystal and moving silently, he approached a junction where the corridor opened into a larger chamber.
The scene that greeted him was exactly the mess the mercenary had predicted. Two groups—one wearing the distinctive armor of Mercenary Guild members, the other the more varied equipment typical of adventurers—stood in confrontational formation on opposite sides of a chamber containing what appeared to be an ancient altar. Both groups were battered and reduced in numbers, suggesting they had already faced dungeon hazards.
"This chamber is under Mercenary Guild jurisdiction by contract," a woman in the mercenary group was saying, her sword drawn but lowered. "We have no quarrel with you if you turn back now."
"Dungeon exploration falls under Adventurer's Guild authority," a robed man from the opposing group countered. "Your contract with the Merchants' Association holds no legal weight here."
"Tell that to our missing teammates," another mercenary snapped. "We're here for them, not your guild politics."
"And we're here for valuable artifacts and knowledge," an adventurer replied. "First discovery rights belong to the Adventurer's Guild."
Marcus assessed the situation carefully. Three mercenaries—a swordswoman who appeared to be their leader, an archer with a drawn bow, and a burly axe-wielder. Opposite them, four adventurers—the robed man who was likely an elemental caster, a woman with twin daggers, a heavily armored warrior, and a figure in the back whose role wasn't immediately obvious.
Neither group had noticed Marcus yet, their attention focused entirely on each other and the tension that seemed ready to erupt into violence at any moment.
Before Marcus could decide how to approach the situation, a new sound cut through the argument—a much louder version of the howling that permeated the dungeon, but now clearly coming from multiple nearby sources.
"Incoming!" the adventurer's warrior shouted, turning toward one of the chamber's other entrances.
Through that doorway poured a nightmarish sight—ghostly, semi-transparent figures with elongated limbs and howling mouths, moving with unnatural speed. Behind them came larger creatures—wolves, but wrong somehow, their bodies twisted and partially translucent, their eyes glowing with the same purple energy that veined the dungeon's stones.
"Specters and warp wolves!" the robed adventurer called out. "Defensive formation!"
The mercenaries likewise prepared for combat, their earlier confrontation with the adventurers temporarily forgotten in the face of a common threat.
Marcus had seconds to make a decision. He could remain hidden, observing how the two groups handled the threat. He could retreat and report what he'd found so far. Or he could engage, potentially saving lives but revealing his presence and abilities.
The decision was made for him when one of the spectral entities veered from the main group, somehow sensing his presence despite his concealment. As it rushed toward him, fingers elongated into claws, Marcus abandoned stealth for direct action.
His crimson aura flared as he created a defensive barrier, simultaneously launching a counter-projection at the approaching specter. The counter-magic struck the entity directly, disrupting the supernatural energies that held it together. With a final wail, the specter dissipated into wisps of purple energy that quickly faded.
"Another one!" the mercenary leader shouted, spotting Marcus as he emerged from the corridor. "Counter-specialist! We could use your help!"
The chamber had erupted into chaos. The mercenaries and adventurers, despite their earlier hostility, had formed a rough defensive circle against the overwhelming numbers of spectral creatures. The robed adventurer was casting fire spells that seemed moderately effective against the warp wolves, while the mercenary archer's arrows passed harmlessly through the specters.
"Focus physical attacks on the wolves, magical attacks on the specters!" Marcus called out as he joined the defensive formation. "They're different manifestations of the same energy!"
To demonstrate, he created an aura blade construct and slashed through one of the warp wolves while simultaneously projecting a counter-field that disrupted two approaching specters.
Both groups quickly adapted to his strategy. The mercenaries' physical attacks focused on the corporeal warp wolves, while the adventurers with magical capabilities targeted the specters. Marcus moved between them, his counter-magic providing crucial support when spectral entities threatened to overwhelm their defenses.
Despite their improved coordination, they were clearly outnumbered. For every specter or wolf they defeated, two more seemed to emerge from the darkened doorways.
"We need to fall back!" the mercenary leader shouted. "There's too many!"
"The altar!" Marcus called back, noticing that the purple energy veining the stone structure seemed to pulse in rhythm with the appearance of new entities. "It's a summoning focus! If we can disrupt it, we might stop the flow!"
The robed adventurer glanced at the altar, then back at Marcus. "Counter-magic might work, but I'll need time to identify the key nodes!"
"We'll cover you," the mercenary leader decided, apparently setting aside guild rivalries in the face of survival. "Everyone, defensive perimeter around the altar!"
The combined groups formed a circle around the altar, fighting desperately to hold back the waves of supernatural creatures while Marcus and the robed adventurer examined the ancient structure.
"Complex binding matrix," the robed man noted, his hands tracing patterns in the air that revealed magical structures invisible to normal sight. "Multiple anchor points, cascading activation sequence."
"I see it," Marcus confirmed, his aura sense detecting the same patterns. "Primary node is there—" he pointed to a specific rune on the altar's base, "—but disrupting it alone would just trigger the secondary failsafes."
"We need simultaneous disruption of all seven primary nodes," the adventurer concluded. "Impossible with just two of us."
Marcus assessed the altar's magical structure, drawing on both his Academy training and the practical experience he'd gained since leaving. "Not necessarily. If I create a resonating counter-field keyed to the base frequency of the binding matrix, you could channel a disruption spell through it to hit all nodes simultaneously."
The adventurer looked surprised. "That's... that's actually brilliant. But the power requirements—"
"I can handle it," Marcus assured him, already beginning to form the counter-field. His MP reserves were substantial, and the technique, while draining, was within his capabilities.
As the others fought desperately to maintain the defensive perimeter, Marcus created an expanding dome of crimson aura energy around the altar, carefully calibrating its resonance to match the underlying frequency of the ancient binding magic.
"Now!" he called to the adventurer once the field stabilized. "Channel your disruption through the field, targeting the central spire!"
The robed man nodded, gathering blue-white energy between his palms before directing it in a focused beam toward the altar's central spire. As the energy passed through Marcus's counter-field, it split into seven perfectly synchronized streams, each striking one of the primary nodes simultaneously.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then, with a sound like shattering glass, the altar's purple veining flared brilliantly before going dark. The spectral entities throughout the chamber froze in place, then began to dissolve, their howls fading into silence. The warp wolves collapsed into piles of ordinary bones that quickly crumbled to dust.
Within seconds, the chamber was clear of threats, leaving only the battered group of mercenaries and adventurers staring in amazement at the now-dormant altar.
"By the void," the mercenary leader breathed. "What did you do?"
"Disrupted the summoning matrix," Marcus explained, leaning against a wall as fatigue from the extensive aura use hit him. "The altar was drawing energy from somewhere else and using it to manifest those entities."
"Impressive work," the robed adventurer acknowledged. "I've never seen counter-magic applied quite like that before."
"Who are you?" the mercenary leader asked Marcus directly. "You're not with either of our guilds."
"Independent contractor," Marcus replied, using the cover story he'd prepared. "Marcus Phoenix. Took a contract to map the first level and find information about the missing parties."
"Both our groups were fighting over this chamber when the entities appeared," the adventurer's dagger-wielder explained. "Previous expeditions likely encountered the same."
"The blood trails we found probably belong to the earlier teams," the mercenary archer added grimly. "Hard to fight something that keeps coming in endless waves."
"We should check the adjacent chambers for survivors," Marcus suggested. "Now that the altar is deactivated, it should be safer to explore further."
The mercenary leader and the robed adventurer exchanged glances, the earlier hostility seemingly set aside in the aftermath of shared survival.
"Agreed," the adventurer said. "Temporary cooperation until we've found our missing people and secured this level."
"Acceptable," the mercenary leader nodded. "Phoenix, since you're contracted for mapping anyway, care to join the search?"
"Of course," Marcus agreed, seeing an opportunity to fulfill his contract while building relationships with both guilds.
The systematic search of the surrounding chambers revealed the grim fate of the earlier expeditions. They found remains of all three previous parties, apparently overwhelmed by the spectral entities before they could escape. Equipment and personal effects were gathered for return to the respective guilds, while Marcus carefully mapped each chamber and corridor they explored.
With the altar deactivated, no further supernatural manifestations occurred, allowing them to secure the entire first level of the dungeon within hours. Deeper passages led to lower levels, but by mutual agreement, all three groups decided to return to the surface with their findings before attempting further exploration.
"The Merchant's Association and Adventurer's Guild will still argue over jurisdiction," the mercenary leader—who had introduced herself as Saryn—told Marcus as they prepared to leave. "But at least we have a better understanding of what we're dealing with now."
"And we owe that understanding largely to you," the robed adventurer—who called himself Thorne—acknowledged. "That counter-technique saved all our lives."
"Just applying my training," Marcus replied modestly.
"That was more than basic counter-magic," Thorne pressed. "Where did you study?"
"Northern territories," Marcus said, sticking to his cover story. "Small enclave of specialists. Nothing formal."
Saryn looked skeptical but didn't press further. "Well, wherever you learned it, your skills are impressive. If you're interested in more dungeon work, look me up back in town. The Mercenary Guild can always use a counter-specialist of your caliber."
"Same offer from the Adventurer's Guild," Thorne added quickly, not to be outdone. "Better rates for artifact recovery too."
Marcus thanked them both, privately pleased at how quickly his reputation was developing. One successful contract had already opened doors with both major guilds—exactly the kind of progress he needed.
As they emerged from the dungeon into the late afternoon sunlight, the combined group began the journey back to Stoneridge. The conversation turned to practical matters—how to report their findings, what to tell the families of the fallen, and how to approach further exploration of the deeper levels.
Marcus contributed where appropriate but mostly listened, absorbing the practical wisdom of experienced adventurers and mercenaries. This was the real-world education he had left the Academy to find—messy, dangerous, and infinitely more valuable than controlled classroom exercises.
Unforeseen Consequences
They were perhaps halfway back to Stoneridge when the first signs of trouble appeared. A distant rumbling sound, like thunder but continuous, grew steadily louder behind them.
"What is that?" one of the adventurers asked, turning toward the sound.
From their vantage point on the trail, they could see back toward the dungeon entrance. What they saw there sent ice through Marcus's veins—a veritable flood of creatures pouring from the massive doorway, spreading outward in all directions.
"By the void," Saryn breathed. "What did we unleash?"
The creatures were unlike the spectral entities they had fought inside. These were solid, bestial things—twisted versions of natural animals, all bearing the same purple veining they had seen on the altar. Wolves, bears, boars, and things less recognizable all merged into a chaotic stampede that was rapidly closing the distance.
"Run!" Thorne shouted. "We can't fight that many!"
No one argued. The entire group broke into a sprint toward Stoneridge, abandoning dignity for speed. But it quickly became apparent that the stampeding creatures were faster, the thundering horde gaining ground with every passing minute.
"We need to split up!" Saryn called out as they ran. "Divide their attention!"
It was sound tactical thinking, but before they could implement it, disaster struck. The ground beneath their feet began to tremble violently—not from the approaching stampede, but from something else. With a sound like tearing cloth, the earth ahead of them split open, a glowing purple fissure opening directly in their path.
From this new fissure emerged more creatures—different from those behind them, these resembling giant insects with too many limbs and chitinous armor veined with the same purple energy.
They were trapped between two waves of monstrosities.
"Defensive circle!" Saryn ordered, and the group instinctively complied, forming a tight ring with weapons facing outward.
Marcus assessed their situation with brutal clarity. They were outnumbered hundreds to one. No tactical brilliance or magical skill would overcome those odds. Their only hope was escape, not victory.
"I have an idea," he said quickly. "But it's risky and will drain most of my energy."
"Whatever it is, do it fast," Thorne replied, magical energy already gathering around his hands.
"I'm going to create a counter-field to disrupt the purple energy animating these creatures," Marcus explained rapidly. "It might slow them enough for us to break through the smaller group and keep running. But once I do this, I'll be nearly drained."
"We'll carry you if necessary," Saryn assured him. "Just do it!"
Marcus nodded, dropping to one knee to better focus his concentration. His crimson aura flared around him as he drew deeply on his MP reserves, channeling everything into creating the largest counter-field he had ever attempted.
The crimson energy expanded outward from his position, creating a dome that encompassed their entire group and extended several yards in all directions. As it reached the approaching creatures from the fissure, the effect was immediate—their movements slowed, the purple veining in their bodies flickering as the counter-field disrupted the energy animating them.
"Now!" Marcus shouted. "Through the insect things! They're weaker!"
The group charged as one toward the disrupted insectoid creatures, cutting down those directly in their path. Marcus struggled to maintain the counter-field while moving, each step draining more of his rapidly depleting MP.
[MP Critical: 85/610] [Counter-Field Stability: Failing] [Warning: Complete MP depletion imminent]
They had almost broken through the insectoid line when Marcus's counter-field collapsed, his MP reserves exhausted. The creatures, freed from the disrupting influence, immediately resumed their full speed and aggression.
"Keep going!" Saryn shouted as several creatures converged on their position. "Don't stop!"
The fighting became desperate—a running battle as they tried to break free of the encircling monsters. Marcus, his aura abilities temporarily exhausted, drew a physical dagger and fought with conventional means, his enhanced strength still providing an advantage despite his depleted magical reserves.
They had almost cleared the insectoid group when tragedy struck. One of the mercenaries—the archer—was pulled down by multiple creatures. His screams were mercifully brief. Moments later, one of the adventurers fell similarly, disappearing beneath a mass of chitinous limbs and snapping mandibles.
"We can't help them!" Thorne shouted when another adventurer moved to assist. "Keep running or we all die!"
The brutal calculus of survival drove them forward, abandoning their fallen comrades to gain precious seconds of escape time. As they finally broke free of the insectoid creatures, the much larger stampede from the dungeon was closing fast behind them.
"There!" Saryn pointed to a rocky outcropping ahead. "If we can reach higher ground, the larger creatures might not follow!"
The surviving group—now reduced to two mercenaries, two adventurers, and Marcus—made a desperate dash for the rocky formation. It wasn't much—a jutting stone ridge perhaps fifteen feet high—but it offered their only chance against the approaching horde.
Marcus's lungs burned as he ran, his physical stamina pushed to its limits after the magical exhaustion. His enhanced strength helped, but even with his improved physique, he felt the strain of continuous battle and flight.
They reached the base of the outcropping just as the first wave of the stampede crashed against the rocks behind them. Saryn and the remaining mercenary—the burly axe-wielder named Gorn—took defensive positions at the bottom while the others climbed.
"Go!" Saryn shouted. "We'll hold them off!"
Marcus began climbing, his fingers finding purchase in the rough stone. Below, Saryn and Gorn fought with desperate efficiency, cutting down the faster creatures that reached them while the main stampede flowed around the outcropping like a river around a stone.
The robed adventurer, Thorne, had already reached the top and was helping his remaining companion—the dagger-wielder called Lyra—climb the final stretch. As Marcus neared the top, a ear-splitting screech from below made him look back.
Gorn had fallen, dragged down by what appeared to be a twisted version of a mountain lion, its body elongated and veined with that same purple energy. Saryn fought alone now, her sword a blur as she cut down creature after creature.
"Saryn!" Marcus called. "Come on!"
The mercenary leader glanced up, then made a split-second decision. Driving her sword into the nearest monster, she turned and leaped for the rock face, beginning a frantic climb as more creatures converged on her position.
Marcus reached down, extending his hand as far as he could. Their fingers were just inches apart when a barbed tentacle—belonging to something he couldn't even identify—whipped up from below and wrapped around Saryn's ankle.
For one terrible moment, their eyes met—hers filled with the grim acceptance of a frontier veteran who knew her odds.
"Tell the Guild what happened here," she said simply, then let go of the rock face.
She was dragged down into the seething mass of twisted creatures, her sword flashing one final time before she disappeared from view.
"Climb!" Thorne shouted from above, grabbing Marcus's wrist and hauling him up the final stretch.
Now only three survived—Marcus, Thorne, and Lyra—huddled on top of the rocky outcropping as the stampede raged below. The massive wave of creatures continued to flow past, seemingly endless, all heading in the direction of Stoneridge.
"What have we done?" Lyra whispered, her face pale with shock. "We've unleashed this on the settlement."
"The altar," Thorne said grimly. "It wasn't just a summoning focus—it was a containment mechanism. When we disrupted it..."
"We broke the seal," Marcus finished, the horrifying realization hitting him. Their clever solution in the dungeon had caused this catastrophe.
[System Message: From "saving the day with counter-magic" to "accidentally unleashing a monster apocalypse" in record time. Always read the fine print on ancient magical altars, kids!]
"Stoneridge isn't prepared for this," Lyra said, her hands clutching her daggers so tightly her knuckles were white. "They'll be overrun."
"We need to warn them," Marcus agreed, though he knew the warning would likely come too late. The creatures were moving faster than they could possibly travel.
"First we need to survive," Thorne pointed out. "How long until your magical abilities recover?"
Marcus assessed his internal energy. His MP was regenerating, but slowly. "Hours before I can do anything significant. How about you?"
Thorne grimaced. "My reserves are nearly depleted as well. I might manage a few minor spells, but nothing powerful enough to matter against that." He gestured at the seemingly endless stampede still flowing past their position.
They fell into grim silence, watching as the horde of twisted creatures continued its relentless journey toward the settlement. The purple veining that marked each creature pulsed in the same unsettling rhythm, suggesting a single controlling influence driving the entire stampede.
"We should wait until they've passed," Lyra eventually suggested. "Then make our way back to Stoneridge on a different route. Maybe we can reach some of the outlying farms in time to warn them."
"Agreed," Thorne nodded. "No point dying here if there's even a small chance we can help someone."
Marcus said nothing, his mind racing with analysis and implications. This disaster was partially his doing—his counter-magic had disrupted the altar without understanding its true purpose. The fact that he'd been trying to save everyone's lives was cold comfort against the scale of what they'd unleashed.
It was nearly sunset when the stampede finally thinned, the last stragglers of the monstrous horde disappearing over the horizon toward Stoneridge. The three survivors cautiously descended from their rocky refuge, muscles stiff from hours of tense waiting.
"We should move quickly while we still have some light," Thorne said, orienting himself. "If we cut across that ridge to the east, we might be able to reach the outlying farms before the horde."
"What can three exhausted people possibly do against that?" Lyra asked, voicing the question they were all thinking.
"Warn people. Maybe save a few lives," Thorne replied. "Better than doing nothing."
They set off at the fastest pace they could manage, their bodies aching from the day's ordeal. Marcus's MP was slowly recovering—up to about a quarter of his full capacity—but nowhere near enough to make a significant difference against the stampede.
"Phoenix," Thorne said as they walked, his voice low enough that Lyra, ranging ahead, couldn't hear. "That counter-technique you used on the altar. I've never seen anything like it."
"Like I said, specialized training," Marcus replied, keeping to his cover story.
"No, it's more than that," Thorne pressed. "The resonance field, the frequency matching—those are theoretical concepts from advanced magical academia. Not something you pick up in a frontier enclave."
Marcus said nothing, focusing on the path ahead.
"I'm not asking for your secrets," Thorne continued after a moment. "But I want you to know—what happened wasn't your fault. None of us understood what the altar truly was. We all agreed to the plan."
"We still released those things," Marcus replied grimly. "Whatever happens in Stoneridge is on all of us."
"True," Thorne acknowledged. "Which is why we need to do whatever we can to help fix it."
They walked in silence after that, each lost in their own thoughts. The eastern sky darkened as the sun set behind them, casting long shadows across the rolling terrain. In the growing darkness, a faint glow appeared on the horizon ahead—the lights of Stoneridge, still standing for now.
Or was it? As they drew closer, Marcus realized with horror that the glow was too bright, too widespread for normal settlement lights. The orange-red tint could only mean one thing.
"Fire," Lyra said, having reached the same conclusion. "The town is burning."
They quickened their pace, exhaustion temporarily forgotten in the face of this new urgency. As they crested a final hill, the full extent of the disaster became clear.
Stoneridge was under siege. The twisted creatures from the dungeon swarmed through the streets, while defensive fire from the town walls illuminated the night. Parts of the settlement were indeed burning, though the central districts appeared to be holding out. The town's defenders were making a stand, but they were clearly outnumbered.
"We need to help," Marcus said immediately.
"How?" Lyra asked. "We're three people, nearly drained of energy, against that."
"My magic is partially recovered," Thorne noted. "Not much, but enough for a few significant spells."
"And my MP is rebuilding," Marcus added. "I can't manage a large counter-field, but I can disrupt individuals or small groups."
"So we what—sneak in and join the defense?" Lyra asked skeptically.
"No," Marcus said, a plan forming in his mind. "We target whatever is controlling these creatures. The purple energy, the pulsing rhythm—they're all connected to something. If we can identify the source and disrupt it..."
"We might be able to stop the entire stampede," Thorne finished, understanding immediately. "But how do we find the source?"
Marcus closed his eyes, extending his aura sense to its maximum range. The entire area was awash with magical energies—the purple signature of the creatures, the varied magical defenses of the town, and something else... something stronger, pulsing with a familiar rhythm.
"There," he said, pointing to the northern edge of town. "Something's gathering at the north gate. The energy signature is similar to the altar in the dungeon, but stronger."
"Another containment mechanism?" Thorne suggested.
"Or the primary control point," Marcus countered. "Either way, it's our best target."
"So we sneak around the fighting, reach the north gate, and do... what exactly?" Lyra asked.
"Assess the situation when we get there," Marcus replied honestly. "If it's a containment mechanism, we reinforce it. If it's a control point, we disrupt it."
It wasn't much of a plan, but it was better than doing nothing. The three set off immediately, circling wide around the eastern edge of the settlement to avoid the worst of the fighting. As they approached the northern periphery, they could see that the town's defenses there were already breached, with creatures flowing through the damaged gate into the streets beyond.
"There," Thorne pointed to a structure just inside the walls—what appeared to be an ancient shrine or small temple that predated the rest of the settlement. "That's where the energy is concentrating."
Marcus nodded, seeing it with his aura sense as well—a pulsing nexus of purple energy, drawing the creatures toward it like moths to a flame. The temple's stone construction was veined with the same purple markings they had seen in the dungeon, suggesting a direct connection.
"We need to get closer," he said. "Can you create a distraction?"
Thorne nodded, gathering his remaining magical energy. "I can manage one significant illusion. It won't last long against that many creatures, but it might create an opening."
"Do it," Marcus urged. "Lyra and I will make a run for the temple when they're distracted."
Thorne closed his eyes in concentration, then released a complex spell that created the illusion of a massive flaming beast appearing at the eastern edge of their position. The twisted creatures, drawn to the apparent threat, began to converge on the illusion, temporarily clearing a path toward the temple.
"Now!" Marcus hissed, and he and Lyra sprinted toward the structure while Thorne maintained the illusion from their hidden position.
They reached the temple entrance without being spotted, slipping inside just as Thorne's illusion began to fade. The interior was a single chamber dominated by a stone altar eerily similar to the one they had disrupted in the dungeon. This one, however, was fully active—pulsing with purple energy that flowed in rivulets across its surface and up the walls of the temple.
"Another containment altar?" Lyra whispered, daggers drawn as she watched the entrance.
Marcus studied the structure carefully, his aura sense extended to analyze its magical composition. "No," he realized with growing horror. "It's not containing anything—it's a beacon. A summoning point. It's drawing all those creatures here, collecting their energy for... something."
As if responding to his words, the altar's pulsing intensified. The purple energy began to coalesce above it, forming a swirling vortex that grew larger with each passing moment.
"We need to disrupt it," Marcus decided immediately. "This is feeding on the creatures' energy—it's building toward some kind of manifestation."
"How?" Lyra asked. "Your counter-magic disrupted the first altar, and look what happened."
"This is different," Marcus insisted, though he wasn't entirely confident. "That altar was containing the creatures. This one is summoning them, directing them. If we disrupt it..."
"We might release something worse," Lyra warned.
"Or we might break the control mechanism and stop the entire horde," Marcus countered. "We don't have time to debate this—look!"
The energy vortex above the altar was taking shape, forming what appeared to be a massive humanoid figure composed entirely of the same purple energy that marked the creatures. As they watched, it grew more defined, features emerging from the swirling chaos—a face with empty eye sockets, elongated limbs ending in clawed hands, a mouth that opened to reveal a void of absolute darkness.
"Too late for debate," Lyra acknowledged grimly. "Do what you can. I'll watch the door."
Marcus approached the altar cautiously, assessing its magical structure. His MP had recovered to nearly half capacity—not ideal, but enough for one significant counter-operation if he was precise. The key was understanding exactly what he was targeting.
Unlike the altar in the dungeon, this structure's magical composition was more complex—layers upon layers of interwoven spells and bindings. Disrupting it carelessly could indeed make things worse.
Drawing on his Academy training and everything he'd learned since, Marcus identified what appeared to be the primary control matrix—a specific pattern of runes at the altar's base that regulated the flow of energy. If he could disrupt just that portion while leaving the containment aspects intact...
"It's now or never," he muttered, gathering his remaining MP into a precisely targeted counter-projection. This wasn't the broad-spectrum disruption he'd used in the dungeon, but a surgical strike against a specific magical component.
The crimson energy of his counter-magic flowed from his hands, forming a needle-thin projection that inserted itself into the control matrix like a key into a lock. With absolute precision, he twisted the energy, disrupting the specific runes he had identified while leaving the surrounding structure intact.
For a heartbeat, nothing happened. Then the altar's pulsing rhythm faltered, becoming erratic. The swirling vortex above it wavered, the half-formed entity within it shrieking in a voice that existed somewhere between sound and pure magical energy.
"Is it working?" Lyra called from the doorway.
"I think—" Marcus began, but was cut off as the temple around them began to shake violently.
The altar's purple energy flared brilliantly, then began to collapse inward, as if being sucked into some invisible point at its center. The vortex above it followed, the half-formed entity being drawn down into the collapsing energy well with another unearthly shriek.
"We need to get out of here!" Marcus shouted, grabbing Lyra's arm and running for the exit.
They burst out of the temple just as Thorne reached them, having abandoned his position to check on their progress.
"What happened?" he demanded.
"No time!" Marcus urged, pulling both of them away from the temple. "Run!"
They had barely made it twenty yards when the temple imploded behind them. There was no explosion, no outward force—instead, the entire structure seemed to fold in on itself, collapsing into a singularity of purple energy that winked out of existence with a sound like thunder.
In the sudden silence that followed, they became aware of a change in the battle around them. The twisted creatures had stopped their frenzied attacks. Some stood motionless, the purple veining in their bodies fading. Others were already collapsing, returning to ordinary animal remains or simply disintegrating into dust.
"It worked," Thorne breathed in amazement. "You actually did it."
Marcus wasn't so certain. "I didn't destroy the altar," he admitted. "I just disrupted its control matrix. It self-destructed."
"Whatever you did," Lyra pointed out, "the creatures are no longer attacking. Look."
Throughout the visible portions of Stoneridge, the scene was the same—monsters falling or standing dormant, defenders cautiously emerging from barricades, fires being contained. The immediate crisis appeared to be over.
"We should help with the cleanup," Marcus suggested, though exhaustion pulled at every muscle in his body.
"First, we report to whoever's in charge," Thorne countered. "They need to know what happened, what caused this."
"And who caused it," Lyra added quietly.
Marcus understood her meaning. They had, however unintentionally, triggered this disaster by disrupting the original altar in the dungeon. That was a responsibility they would have to bear, along with whatever consequences came with it.
[Quest Update: Mercenary Initiation] [Status: Unexpected resolution—dungeon threat contained but at significant cost] [Modified Reward: 2000 XP, Reputation impact mixed] [Note: Actions had severe unintended consequences but ultimate resolution positive]
[Level Up! Level Up!] [You are now Level 49] [All stats increased by 2] [10 Stat Points Available] [New Skill Acquired: Emergency Counter-Magic Level 1] [New Skill Acquired: Magical Structure Analysis Level 1]
As they made their way toward the town center, where the defenders appeared to be gathering, Marcus reflected on how quickly his "simple" dungeon mapping contract had escalated into a catastrophe and then a desperate last stand. This was exactly the kind of real-world experience he had left the Academy to find—though perhaps more intense than he had anticipated.
The question now was how to report this to the Academy in his monthly communication. He couldn't possibly explain the full situation without revealing his mercenary activities and the disaster he had partially caused. Yet another carefully edited report would be necessary.
But that was a problem for tomorrow. Right now, there were wounded to help, fires to extinguish, and explanations to give to the town authorities.
"Phoenix," Thorne said quietly as they walked. "Whatever happens next, know that you saved this town. Whatever mistakes we made in the dungeon, you fixed them here."
Marcus nodded in acknowledgment, though the weight of their actions—both good and bad—still sat heavily on his shoulders. This was the reality of real-world magical work: messy, dangerous, full of unforeseen consequences, and far from the controlled environment of Academy training.
It was exactly what he needed to experience, even if the lesson had come at a terrible cost.
[System Message: First solo contract: accidentally unleash monster apocalypse, then heroically save the day. That's going to look great on your resume! Though maybe leave out the "nearly destroyed entire town" part when you write to the Academy...]
The Aftermath
The following days in Stoneridge were a blur of activity. The town had survived, but not without significant damage and casualties. The northern quarter was largely destroyed, multiple buildings in other districts had burned, and the final death toll reached nearly a hundred residents.
Both the Mercenary Guild and Adventurer's Guild suffered substantial losses. Of the three mercenary teams that had entered the Howling Depths, only Marcus and Thorne had returned. The Adventurer's Guild had lost an entire five-person team plus all but Thorne and Lyra from the second.
Guild representatives from both organizations held a joint inquiry into the incident, with Marcus, Thorne, and Lyra providing detailed testimony about what they had encountered in the dungeon and the subsequent events in town. They explained how the disruption of the first altar had inadvertently released the creatures, and how the destruction of the second altar had ultimately ended the threat.
To Marcus's surprise, neither guild assigned direct blame. The general consensus was that they had encountered an ancient magical threat that no one could have anticipated, and while mistakes were made, the final resolution had saved the majority of Stoneridge's population.
"You acted admirably under extreme circumstances," the Mercenary Guild representative—a stern woman named Commander Voss—told Marcus during a private meeting after the inquiry. "Few would have maintained such clarity of thought or taken such decisive action."
"Thank you," Marcus replied, still uncomfortable with praise given the disaster's scope.
"The Guild has voted to confirm your full membership despite the unusual circumstances of your first contract," Voss continued. "In fact, your handling of this crisis has brought you to the attention of several specialized divisions within our organization."
This was unexpected. "Specialized divisions?"
"The Mercenary Guild isn't just hired swords, Phoenix," Voss explained. "We have dedicated groups that handle specific types of threats—including magical anomalies like what you encountered. Your counter-magic abilities, combined with your proven field performance, make you a valuable potential asset."
"I'm... honored," Marcus said carefully, "but I had planned to remain independent for now, taking contracts that allow me to study different types of magical phenomena."
Voss nodded. "Understandable. The offer remains open should you change your mind. In the meantime, you'll find guild doors open to you throughout the frontier. Word travels fast, especially about someone who helped save Stoneridge."
Similar conversations with the Adventurer's Guild representatives yielded comparable results—confirmed membership, offers of specialized positions, and enhanced status within the organization. Marcus politely deferred all permanent positions while accepting the membership benefits, keeping his options open as he had planned.
By the fifth day after the incident, Stoneridge was beginning to rebuild. Caravans of supplies and additional guards arrived from nearby settlements, while magical specialists were brought in to examine the dungeon site and ensure no further threats remained.
Marcus used this time to recover, replenish his supplies, and prepare for his next move. His contract had been fulfilled—technically he had mapped the first level of the dungeon and discovered the fate of the missing parties, even if the process had nearly destroyed the town. Both guilds paid the agreed amounts, plus significant bonuses for his role in resolving the crisis.
More importantly, he had gained valuable experience and reputation—exactly what he needed for his ultimate goal of qualifying for Eldavia Academy.
On the seventh day, he activated his communication crystal for the monthly report to Emberfall Academy. After careful consideration, he crafted a message that acknowledged some of what had happened while obscuring the most problematic details:
"Monthly report, Phoenix. Location: Stoneridge. Status: Experienced significant magical anomaly in the region—previously dormant ancient site activated unexpectedly. Participated in containment efforts alongside local specialists. Gained valuable insights into counter-magic applications against non-standard magical manifestations. Situation now stabilized. Continuing research into regional magical phenomena as planned."
It wasn't entirely untrue. The dungeon had indeed been an ancient site that activated unexpectedly, and he had participated in containment efforts. The report simply omitted his mercenary status, the role he had played in accidentally triggering the disaster, and the true scale of the event.
The crystal pulsed once, recording his message, then went dormant. Marcus tucked it away, the familiar twinge of guilt present but diminished by his growing certainty that this independent path was necessary. The Academy would never have allowed him to gain this kind of experience, with all its dangers and valuable lessons.
[System Message: "Participated in containment efforts" is such a delightful euphemism for "accidentally unleashed a monster apocalypse then helped stop it." Your talent for creative reporting is truly impressive!]
With his official obligations fulfilled, Marcus turned his attention to the future. The Howling Depths had been sealed by a combined effort of magical specialists from various guilds and settlements, the threat contained for now. But there were other dungeons, other ancient sites awakening across the frontier—places where he could continue to gain experience and build his reputation.
He had learned crucial lessons from this first venture: the importance of thoroughly understanding magical structures before attempting to disrupt them, the value of precise counter-techniques rather than broad-spectrum approaches, and most importantly, the reality that actions in the field could have far-reaching consequences beyond what Academy training prepared one for.
These were exactly the kinds of lessons he had left Emberfall to learn—hard-won, practical knowledge that would serve him well on the path to Eldavia Academy and beyond. The road ahead would undoubtedly hold more dangers, but also more opportunities to grow and understand his unique abilities.
As he packed his belongings and prepared to leave Stoneridge for the next frontier settlement, Marcus allocated his newly gained stat points:
[Allocating Stat Points] [Strength: 89 → 94 (+5 points)] [Intelligence: 111 → 114 (+3 points)] [Wisdom: 96 → 98 (+2 points)] [Allocation Complete]
The additional strength would further his cover as an older aura practitioner, while the intelligence and wisdom increases would enhance his core counter-magic abilities. A balanced approach for the challenges that lay ahead.
His time in Stoneridge had been more eventful than anticipated, but it had served its purpose. He had established his independent identity, gained membership in both major guilds, built a reputation, and most importantly, tested his abilities against real threats rather than Academy simulations.
Five years still stretched before him—five years to gather the experience and reputation needed for Eldavia. If his first venture was any indication, those years would be filled with dangers and discoveries beyond anything he could have experienced at Emberfall Academy.
And somewhere in those experiences might lie answers to the questions that had driven him to this path in the first place—why he had been reincarnated in this world, why he had been given the system, and what purpose he was meant to serve.
[System Message: First solo adventure: unleash monster apocalypse, save town, gain reputation, level up twice. Not bad for your first week of independence! At this rate, you'll either be the most famous counter-specialist in the world or cause the apocalypse for real before you ever reach Eldavia. Either way, it won't be boring!]