Untitled

Three weeks later.

"One bottle of Energized Water, please."

In front of a small tower surrounded by numerous trees, a young man with bright red hair and bronze armor plates stretched out his hand, placing a silver coin into the palm of a store attendant.

"Give me a minute, Slayer Jemie," said the young lady with purple hair, bowing subtly to the dashing man before her, before retreating into the store in a rush.

"Haha, take your time," Jemie replied with a smile. He stepped away from the shop, his stride casual as he approached a small group standing a few meters away.

"Ah? Where's Guilliman?" Jemie asked, scanning the group with mock confusion. Then, as if realizing something, he looked down and smirked. Sure enough, Guilliman stood before him, glaring up with narrowed eyes.

That's right—he was poking fun at Guilliman's height again.

Jemie, seventeen and already standing tall at 6'2", had hit a growth spurt that put him far above the average for his age. Though not quite as tall as Barthold, he still towered over Guilliman, whose malnourished frame struggled to reach 5'6". Despite improvements in his health since becoming a Slayer, Guilliman's stature remained unimpressive, especially compared to Victoria, who was the same height but had a commanding presence that left no room for mockery.

"Hmp!" Guilliman scoffed, turning sharply away. His attention shifted toward the iron gate ahead, beyond which lay the dense, sprawling expanse of Clawwood Forest.

They were standing at an outpost.

Outposts like this were scattered throughout the explored and partially explored zones of the forest. They served as vital waystations for Slayers on extended expeditions, offering a place to restock supplies and recuperate before venturing further into the treacherous terrain.

The outposts were a lifeline, especially in Clawwood Forest, where danger lurked behind every tree, and running out of essential supplies like water could be a death sentence.

"Here you go, Sir Jemie," the young store attendant said, nervously handing over the bottle of water. She was flustered, clearly overwhelmed by Jemie's charm.

"Haha, thank you… umm, Harger, right?" Jemie asked with a grin, making her blush even more.

"Yes!" she exclaimed, her face lighting up. She couldn't believe he remembered her name.

Unfortunately for her, before she could utter another word, Victoria's voice cut through the moment.

"Let's get going. It's gone."

Victoria strode past them, her tone brisk and commanding, paying no attention to Jemie's interaction.

Jemie sighed, giving Harger an apologetic smile before hurrying after Victoria. The girl's hopeful expression faded into a frown as she watched him leave. She couldn't understand how Victoria held such sway over her "man."

As the group approached the iron gate, they overheard the voices of two outpost guards gossiping loudly.

"If I were part of the Blackberry family, I'd bury my head in the sand. Imagine the young lord dying in a ditch, and no one can even find his corpse!" one guard said with a laugh.

In recent days, rumors had spread about the Blackberry family's heir meeting a gruesome end during a hunting expedition. Only a severed hand had been recovered, leaving little doubt that the young master had been devoured by wild beasts.

"That's not all. I heard the Blackberry family is screaming foul play! They're accusing the Windfall House of orchestrating the whole thing," the other guard chimed in, his tone dripping with mockery.

The rivalry between the great houses was well-known, and their alliances were often little more than façades. The guards' laughter carried a note of schadenfreude as they speculated about the fallout.

Guilliman, listening quietly, smirked to himself. He had ensured the heir's body was left in a condition that would attract predators, spreading the scent of blood to draw scavengers and carnivores. The beasts had done their job well.

Soon, the group passed through the gate and back into the forest, accompanied by a dozen Level 1 Slayers.

"Are we heading back to the communal zone?" one of the Slayers asked, his exhaustion evident in his voice.

They had already lost several men during the hunt, and the looming presence of the Sacred Beast nearby had only added to their anxiety. For these lower-level Slayers, returning home was all they could think about.

"Yes, we are. Why do you ask?" Victoria replied, her tone calm but slightly puzzled. To her, the idea of retreating so soon was unthinkable. It was barely noon, and there was still much to accomplish.

"We're exhausted. We want to go home," the Level 1 Slayer said, his voice breaking with frustration.

The glamour of becoming a Slayer had faded quickly for him. He had entered this life dreaming of wealth and glory, only to find himself risking death on a daily basis. He felt overwhelmed and disillusioned.

"Home? I see," Victoria said thoughtfully.

The Slayer hype machine had ensnared many, luring them in with promises of fame and fortune. But the reality was far harsher, and for those who lacked a deeper motivation, the dream quickly soured.

"You can go back. Safe journey," Victoria said, waving them off without hesitation as she continued deeper into the forest.

To truly thrive as a Slayer, one needed more than just a love of money. It required an unshakable resolve, a burning desire for something greater.

These people didn't have it.