07. First Party (3)

During their journey from Firstden to the forest's edge, they encountered several monsters ranging from level one to five.

Slimes that jiggled across the path, their translucent bodies pulsing with faint magical light. Giant rats with matted fur and yellow teeth, surprisingly aggressive for their size. Horned rabbits that could gore an unwary traveler.

The farther they strayed from the designated safe zone around the town, the more dangerous and frequent the threats became. With every step deeper into the wilderness, the tension in the air thickened.

Alden couldn't afford to stay idle during the trek. This was his chance. His chance to sharpen his skills, test his abilities in real combat scenarios, and raise his stats before the actual mission began. Every monster they encountered was an experience he desperately needed.

"What a complete hassle," Serina muttered after the third time Alden had asked the group to wait while he engaged a small cluster of enemies. She clicked her tongue in obvious annoyance, arms crossed as she leaned against a moss-covered boulder.

"How long do we have to stand around like this? We're wasting daylight."

"Let him do what he needs to do," Carius said with surprising calmness. He leaned casually against a tree trunk, staff resting in the crook of his arm. "If he dies in the first wave because he's under-leveled, we'll be the ones suffering for it. Level five is the bare minimum if he wants to survive until the end."

"He really is stuck with an NPC-tier class," Evaron remarked, his keen elven eyes locked on Alden in the distance as he fought a pair of horned rabbits. The archer's expression was a mixture of pity and disdain.

"Look at that fighting style. No flashy effects, no elemental flair, not even a decent area-of-effect ability. Just... basic sword swings. Fundamentals with nothing special."

He turned to Archie with a half-smirk playing at his lips. "How can a class be that bad? Honestly, it's the worst melee build I've ever seen. Well, aside from yours, leader."

Serina burst into laughter at the jab, her voice carrying through the trees. "Except Archie's Vanguard Lancer actually has reliable area damage with that spin attack, right? This guy's got nothing."

But Archie didn't laugh. Didn't even smile. His eyes never left Alden, watching the distant fight with focused intensity. "Did you see that just now? The way his Circle Slash behaved when he used it..."

"What do you mean?" Serina asked, her irritation giving way to genuine curiosity. She straightened up, following Archie's gaze.

"You noticed it too, didn't you, Carius?" Archie continued, ignoring her question to address the mage directly.

Carius frowned, pushing off from the tree and stepping forward for a better view. His analytical mind was clearly working through what he'd observed. "He blocked that acid spit... using an offensive skill? That shouldn't be possible with a basic attack ability."

Alden's fighting style was raw and unrefined. He lacked elegant swordsmanship or advanced combat techniques. No formal stances, no weapon arts with fancy names and elaborate forms.

But what he did have was something else entirely: the instinct of someone who'd drilled the absolute basics until they were burned into his muscle memory through repetition and desperation.

Giant crickets emerged from the undergrowth ahead, each one the size of a large turtle. They appeared in small waves of three or four at a time, their mandibles clicking together in an unsettling rhythm that echoed through the forest.

One or two clean slashes were typically enough to bring each cricket down, their shells cracking under the force of his strikes. When several lunged at him simultaneously, attempting to overwhelm him with numbers, he rolled forward, controlling his movements with better speed and precision than before.

He moved faster now, more fluidly. Unencumbered by heavy gear, freed by the lightness of his basic equipment, he could react and reposition quickly.

Then the moment came.

[Skill Available: Circle Slash]

The notification appeared in his vision. At that exact instant, two crickets reared back and spat thick streams of greenish liquid directly toward him—their ranged attack, some kind of acidic saliva that hissed where it hit the ground.

If he had hesitated for even a single heartbeat, the corrosive substance would've soaked him, eating through his fur armor.

But Alden didn't freeze.

He pivoted hard on his back foot, spinning his entire body and sweeping his sword in a wide, fluid arc from back to front. The moment he activated Circle Slash, a burst of flame erupted from the blade itself.

The flames clashed with the acidic spray in midair, the fire flash-evaporating the liquid before continuing forward to engulf the two crickets in front of him. Their death shrieks were brief. The flames fizzled out moments later, leaving only scorched earth and dissolving monster corpses.

"Was that... a magic block?" Archie muttered, glancing sharply at Carius for confirmation. "If it was, that's actually not bad at all for a first-tier skill."

"What are you talking about?" Serina scoffed, waving dismissively. "That's just a basic Guard-type skill with fire element. Every warrior class gets something similar. And the actual damage output? Practically nonexistent. Those crickets were almost dead anyway."

"Hold on." Evaron's expression shifted, his eyes narrowing as realization dawned. "If that skill can block projectile magic attacks... doesn't that mean it could potentially block my arrows too?"

A low-level skill that could negate ranged attacks, even magical ones, was rare. Valuable. Potentially problematic if it scaled well.

[Congratulations! You are now Level 5]

[Unlocked: Passive Skill – Adrenaline]

He'd been so focused on the combat that he hadn't even noticed his experience bar filling. He quickly pulled up the new skill description, eager to see what he'd gained:

[Passive Skill: Adrenaline]

After receiving 3 consecutive physical hits, gain the following effects for 5 seconds:

- +20% Attack Speed

- +20% Movement Speed

- +10% Critical Rate

- -15% Stamina Cost

Cooldown: 10 seconds

He could feel something stirring in his chest. Not fear this time, but excitement. The thrill of battle, of improvement, of growth. A flicker of hunger for more challenges, stronger enemies, better rewards.

Wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, Alden allowed himself a small, satisfied smile.

"That should be enough grinding," Carius called out. The mage stepped forward, staff planted firmly in the ground. "You'll get plenty more chances to swing your sword around once we're dealing with the Imps. If you survive the waves, that is."

"I will survive," Alden said, turning to face the group and walking toward them with confident steps. "No matter what comes. I didn't get a second chance at life just to throw it away in the first quest."

A wide, genuine smile spread across Archie's face. "Now that's what I like to hear! With your instincts and that defensive skill, we're finishing this mission. Together."

Alden and Carius exchanged a brief look. He hadn't spoken much since watching the cricket fight end, his usual cold commentary absent. Maybe doubt still lingered about Alden's capabilities. Maybe he was recalculating their strategy now that he'd seen the blocking ability.

Alden didn't blame him for the skepticism. None of them truly respected him yet. He could see it in their eyes, hear it in their casual cruelty. Only Archie seemed to genuinely believe he had potential worth investing in. And for now, that single thread of faith was enough to hold onto.

They resumed their march, climbing a small ridge that overlooked a dense forest stretching across the eastern border of Firstden's territory.

The forest itself wasn't particularly vast—Alden could see hints of clearings and the far edge in the distance—but the trees were tall and ancient, packed so tightly together that their branches wove an overhead canopy that drowned the forest floor in perpetual shadows. Barely any sunlight penetrated to ground level.

As they descended into the tree line, Alden immediately noticed the monsters waiting ahead. Short-bodied creatures with disproportionately large noses, hunched backs covered in fur and crude leather scraps, and gnarled hands holding makeshift wooden spears.

[Location: Altar of the Imp]

The notification appeared for the entire party simultaneously.

"Ignore the trash mobs on the approach," Archie commanded, his voice taking on the tone of an experienced raid leader. His eyes scanned the terrain ahead, mapping the safest route.

"We go straight to the altar platform. Conserve your weapon sustain, don't waste durability on enemies that don't matter."

Without waiting for confirmation, Archie broke into a run. The monsters turned their heads to track his movement, their glowing eyes following, but surprisingly, not one of them attacked or even moved to intercept.

Alden blinked in confusion as he followed, running past an Imp that stood barely three feet from him. The creature just... watched. Made no aggressive move whatsoever.

It had to be the nature of this first zone. Passive mobs until some trigger condition was met.

"There it is!" Archie shouted, pointing ahead as they burst through the last line of trees.

A stone ruin emerged from the forest gloom. Old and weathered, covered in creeping vines and moss. In the center of the cleared area stood a raised circular platform, maybe thirty feet in diameter, constructed from fitted stones engraved with faded glyphs that still pulsed with faint magical energy.

The Imps here were fewer in number, scattered loosely around the perimeter in what looked like patrol patterns. Less immediately threatening than a concentrated group.

In the exact center of the stone platform stood an ancient staff, embedded deep in the stone itself like some twisted version of a sword in the stone. Its wooden shaft was entwined with thick roots and dried vines, and the crystal at its tip pulsed with a sickly green light.

Archie approached it slowly, his confident stride becoming more serious.

"We can't go back empty-handed," he said quietly, though his voice carried clearly in the unnatural silence of the forest. "Not again."

He stepped onto the platform. The moment his boot touched the engraved stone, the glyphs flared brilliant white. A pulse of pure magical energy exploded outward from the staff's base, expanding in a perfect sphere. It washed over all of them like a wave of pressure.

The light solidified into a translucent dome barrier that enclosed the entire circle, sealing them inside. The forest beyond became hazy and distant. The sounds of birds and wind vanished completely.

They had entered a separate dimensional space.

No escape. No running away if things went wrong. No reinforcements from outside. Just the five of them... and whatever the dungeon was about to throw at them.

"Damn Imps, we meet again!" Serina growled. She raised both hands before her, and a swirling cloud of black smoke immediately began forming between her fingers—dark magic responding to her will, glowing with crimson sparks that looked like embers in shadow.

"Alden! Get beside me, now!" Archie shouted, drawing the massive spear from his back in one smooth motion. The weapon gleamed with a faint orange aura.

The others moved into position with the ease of a team that had run this dungeon before, that knew the optimal formation.

Carius and Evaron positioned themselves several steps behind Archie, creating a second line. Serina took the protected center position, her buffing and debuffing magic most valuable when she could cast freely without threat.

Evaron raised one hand, and his arrow formed from condensed light. Just shimmering threads of pure mana that coalesced into the shape of a recurve arrow.

Carius conjured his staff from thin air, the weapon materializing in a flash: a long shaft of dark wood topped with a crescent-shaped blade that looked more like a scythe than a traditional mage's focus.

"We almost cleared this mission with one tank before," Archie said, his eyes locked forward on the tree line where movement was beginning to stir. "Now that we've got you as a second frontline... there's no doubt in my mind. We will finish it."

From the bushes and shadows ahead, dozens of red eyes blinked open. The Imps emerged in waves, pouring out from hiding spots in the undergrowth, dropping from tree branches, crawling up from burrows in the ground.

Some wore patchwork leather armor stitched together from various hides. Others had scraps of rusted iron tied to their bodies with cord.

All of them carried weapons: crude wooden clubs studded with nails, bone spears with sharpened points, jagged blades that might have once been farming tools.

[Wave 1]

Their war cries split the air. The sound was disorienting, designed to unsettle and frighten. They rushed forward in a disorganized charge, their eyes wild with feral hunger, weapons raised high above their heads.

Alden summoned his Refined Bronze Shield from inventory, the weight settling onto his left arm with reassuring solidity. His heart was beating faster—not from fear this time, but from anticipation.

From the electric thrill of battle about to begin.