Map, Wounds, and the First Step

"A true journey doesn't begin with your feet, but with the choice never to return."

The worn-out map was now safely tucked into the pocket of my second-hand leather jacket—the last inheritance from Kael. The drawings were faded, most parts unreadable, but one spot was clearly marked in red ink: the Shrouded City, Avenlure—a gathering place for beginners, a center of information, and a marketplace of power.

"If you seek strength, start where strength can be bought, sold, and tested."

That was Kael's final message, before he vanished without a trace at the break of dawn.

No hugs. No goodbyes. Only faint footprints on the snow, slowly swept away by the winter wind.

The journey to Avenlure took three days, which felt like three years. Rocky forests, dense fog, natural traps, and small creatures like gremlins and mist serpents blocked every step. Armed only with a stone knife and two herbal potions Kael had left me, I survived. My body was full of cuts and bruises, but I was still breathing.

And that was enough.

"If I return to the village, I'll die a slave. But if I keep moving forward, maybe I can become a demon to those who stole everything from me."

The moment I set foot in Avenlure, a new world struck me with colors, smells, and sounds I'd never experienced before. The bustling marketplace, merchants shouting, the clanging of metal, and the suspicious stares of guards towards every ragged newcomer. Including me.

One guard even raised his spear as I walked through the crowded streets.

"I'm not a thief," I said, raising my stone knife. "I'm here to register as an adventurer."

Laughter. Loud, mocking laughter—as if the world had already sentenced me to death before I even had the chance to try.

They laughed. All of them laughed.

They're on my list now.

The guild building looked more like a tavern that never slept. The stench of stale beer mixed with sweat, and laughter and curses filled the air. Adventurers of different races—humans, beastkin, dwarves—boasted their scars and trophies.

I approached the reception desk. A blonde-haired woman stared at me flatly.

"Name?"

"Minato."

"Age?"

"Sixteen."

She looked at me like she was sizing up a piece of cheap meat.

"Got any equipment?"

"A stone knife."

For a moment, she stared again, evaluating something within me. Then laughter erupted once more throughout the room. But I neither smiled nor flinched.

"With just that? You'll die on your first mission," she said coldly.

I looked her straight in the eyes. "If I die, that's my business. But if I live... this world will burn."

Silence swallowed the room. She sighed, then slid a paper across the desk.

"Sign this. From now on, you're part of the system. Welcome to Avenlure... future corpse."

My first mission was simple: gather magic plants from the forest's edge. For veteran adventurers, it was child's play. But for me, it was the stepping stone.

I didn't just need to complete missions—I needed gear, information, and a foothold.

That night, at a cheap inn, I made a list:

Standard sword

Light armor

Leather storage bag

Healing potions

Regional map book

Throwing knives (optional)

With the few coins Kael had left me, I made a vow:

"Every coin I spend will be an investment to tear down those who stand atop the suffering of others."

My first step wasn't the fastest.

But it was a step that would never turn back.

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