Kobold Sea

The Creighton estate had become familiar in a way that felt almost unsettling. The structured elegance, the pulse of mana woven through its very walls, the weight of history pressing in at every turn—it was a place of immense power, yet oddly comfortable now. And I was leaving it behind.

Rachel and I stood before the grand entrance, bags packed, the morning air crisp with the scent of pine and faint traces of ozone from last night's residual magic experiments. Alastor Creighton, the legendary archmage, stood before us, arms crossed, his usual composed expression tinged with something unreadable.

"I assume you've made all the necessary preparations," he said, though it wasn't a question. His piercing blue gaze lingered on me for a moment longer than it should have, as if peeling apart my intentions with surgical precision.

Rachel, standing beside me in travel gear that was somehow both practical and regal, smiled. "Of course, Father."

Alastor sighed, a rare crack in his otherwise unshakable demeanor. "I trust you, Rachel. But keep in mind that while your strength is considerable, the world beyond these walls is unpredictable." His gaze shifted to me. "And you, Arthur, seem to thrive in unpredictability."

I smiled politely. "I try."

A flicker of amusement crossed his face before he extended his hand. In his palm lay two enchanted brooches, small but humming with stored mana. "Take these. They will serve as emergency beacons in case something goes awry. The Creighton name holds weight, but it does not shield you from everything."

Rachel took them, nodding. "Thank you, Father."

With that, Alastor straightened. "Go then. And make sure you return stronger."

Rachel and I exchanged a glance before stepping through the estate gates, the towering spires of the Creighton family fading into the distance as we descended toward Luminarc's bustling transit district.

The journey from Luminarc to the port city of Vellanor was swift. The cutting-edge mag-trains powered by mana relays made long-distance travel effortless. The landscape outside the window blurred past in streaks of green and silver, vast open plains giving way to dense forests before the first signs of the sea emerged on the horizon.

The scent of fresh seafood and briny salt air clung to the bustling streets of Vellanor, the great port city that served as the gateway to the Kobold Sea. Even in the early morning light, the city was alive with energy—dockworkers shouting as they hauled cargo, merchants peddling enchanted trinkets alongside freshly caught fish, and adventurers swaggering through the cobbled streets, boasting of their latest exploits.

Rachel and I weaved through the chaos with practiced ease, heading toward our first stop: the Adventurer's Guild. A towering structure near the cliffs, its weathered stone façade was marked by an aged but unmistakable emblem—a crossed sword and staff, the universal symbol of those who lived by their wits and steel.

Inside, the Guild Hall was a cacophony of clinking mugs, heated debates, and the occasional burst of magic that sent waitstaff scrambling to confiscate drinks from overenthusiastic mages. The air smelled of burnt mana, spiced ale, and something unidentifiably musty—probably a cloak that had seen one too many dungeons.

We approached the reception desk, manned by a guild employee who looked like she had long since given up on the idea of customer service. She barely glanced up from her records as we approached.

"New applicants?" she muttered, her voice laced with disinterest.

Rachel, ever the diplomat, gave her best smile. "Not exactly. We're Mythos Academy students, here to acquire our licenses. Hoping to test our skills in the Kobold Sea, you see."

That got the woman's attention. Her gaze flicked up, scanning our uniforms, and for the first time, I saw a glimmer of something—respect? Annoyance?—pass over her features. Mythos Academy wasn't just any school. It was the best. And we weren't just any students. We were Class 1-A.

I pulled out the five-star adventurer license Cecilia had gifted me, letting the silver emblem gleam under the guild's enchanted lights. It was a little excessive, but hey, sometimes status was useful.

Rachel nudged me, rolling her eyes, before producing her own credentials. Unlike mine, hers had to be issued on the spot. The moment her name registered in the system, a hush fell over the room.

The receptionist, who had previously looked like she'd rather be anywhere else, suddenly sat up straighter. Her mouth opened and closed a few times before she finally stammered, "P-Princess Rachel Creighton?"

I barely resisted a smirk. There it was.

The murmurs spread like wildfire. Adventurers who had previously been minding their own business were now blatantly staring, some whispering excitedly, others looking downright dumbfounded.

Rachel sighed, rubbing her temples. "Please, no need for formalities," she said, though her tone suggested she already knew that was a lost cause.

The receptionist, still wide-eyed, fumbled with her controls before hastily printing out a brand-new five-star license, its surface shimmering with embedded mana signatures. Rachel accepted it with a polite nod before tucking it into her coat.

Just as we were about to turn away, a presence entered the room that made the air shift.

The Guildmaster.

She cut through the crowd with the quiet authority of someone who had nothing to prove. Her formal attire set her apart from the rowdy adventurers, and the way the room instinctively parted for her told me everything I needed to know about her influence.

The receptionist practically turned into a statue. "G-Guildmaster!"

A ripple of tension spread through the hall. This was someone powerful.

The Guildmaster—a tall woman with a mane of fiery red hair streaked with silver—studied Rachel with a knowing smile before turning her attention to me. "It's an honor to have you here, Princess Rachel," she said, her voice smooth, measured. Then, after a slight pause, her sharp eyes locked onto me. "And you must be Arthur. I've heard of you."

My fingers twitched, but I kept my expression neutral. "Oh? Good things, I hope."

Her lips quirked. "That depends."

She didn't elaborate. Instead, she gestured toward a private room off to the side, a place clearly meant for higher-ranking discussions. "Why don't we talk somewhere less… public?"

Rachel and I exchanged a glance. This was unexpected. But if there was one thing I'd learned, it was that powerful people didn't extend private invitations for no reason.

We followed her through the hidden doorway, stepping into a luxurious lounge that felt a world apart from the noisy guild hall. A fire crackled in the hearth, casting warm light over plush chairs and elegant woodwork. The Guildmaster gestured for us to sit before pouring three cups of steaming tea.

"This is where I unwind," she said, settling into a chair across from us. "And where I handle… special requests."

Rachel sipped her tea, unfazed. "You seem well-informed, Guildmaster."

The woman chuckled. "It's my job to be."

I set my cup down, getting straight to the point. "We're looking for a five-star mission to the Isle of Azure Breeze."

That got a reaction.

Her fingers tapped against the wooden armrest. "That's not exactly a beginner's trip."

"We're not beginners," Rachel said evenly.

The Guildmaster studied us for a long moment before nodding. "Fair enough. The Isle of Azure Breeze is… unpredictable. It's home to rare magical flora, unstable mana zones, and some very aggressive wildlife. Most ships don't go near it without good reason."

I leaned forward slightly. "Which means there's a mission available, isn't there?"

She smirked. "There are a few. One expedition is heading there for artifact retrieval, another for rare beast materials. Both need extra hands. You can choose whichever suits you."

Rachel and I shared another look. This was perfect.

The Guildmaster leaned back, watching us. "You'll be up against Thunderclaw Griffins, which command the skies with razor winds, and the Tideborn Stalker, an amphibious predator that prefers hunting at night. And, of course, the biggest threat—the Storm Serpent, a five-star mana beast capable of evolving into a six-star if given the right conditions."

Rachel's eyes gleamed with excitement. "We'll take the mission."

The Guildmaster's smirk widened. "Good answer."

Back in the main hall, our new mission was officially registered. I transferred the details into my spatial ring while Rachel handled final logistics. The receptionist, who had barely managed to regain her composure, processed the request quickly, issuing us digital maps, supply access, and the official guild certification for the expedition.

Moments later, we stepped out of the Guild's imposing metal doors, the roar of the city washing over us once more.

My mind was already racing ahead.

The Storm Serpent. That was my real goal. A mana beast capable of reaching six-star rank.