Chapter 346: Reckless Ambition
The quest board at the Adventurer's Guild was unusually quiet at 09:00 Hours.
It was a phenomenon unique to the era following the Imperial Annexation. In the
old days, this hall would be saturated with units competing for
contracts—loudest voices slamming the counter, fastest legs sprinting for the
pins. If you arrived a micro-second late, you were left with the statistical
dregs.
Now, the landscape was different.
A full third of the board was vacant. Over the empty sector hung a standard
notice: [THE FOLLOWING THREAT-LEVEL CONTRACTS HAVE BEEN ASSUMED BY THE
PUNISHMENT/ARCANE LEGIONS. GRATITUDE IS EXTENDED TO THE GUILD FOR THEIR
COOPERATION.]
Modi stood before the board, methodically flipping through the remaining
contracts in the right-hand column.
Locate a lost feline. Procure medicinal herbs from the forest perimeter. Danger
Rating: Low. Sanitize sewage slimes in Sector 4. Quantity: Variable.
He slapped the slime-contract back onto the board with a sharp, irritated
thwack.
A woman nearby spared him a cursory scan. She looked to be in her mid-twenties,
her skin deeply tanned from exposure, hair tied in a practical ponytail. A
Bronze-Tier Badge was pinned to her left wrist. She held a cup of iced fruit
juice and leaned against a pillar with a look of " Thunder-God lethargy,"
appearing as if she had manifested here solely for the beverage.
Modi ignored her, continuing his audit.
Capture escaped magical poultry. Quantity: Six. Cargo escort. Danger Rating:
Negligible.
He reached the terminal parchment and prepared to initiate a withdrawal from the
hall. Then, he stopped.
Pinned to the absolute bottom-right corner was a crumpled sheet of parchment.
HUNT: THE BOAR KING. COORDINATE: THE FOREST SWAMP. DANGER RATING: TIER 3.
REWARD: 300 GOLD COINS. REQUISITION REQUIREMENT: TIER 2 ADVENTURER OR HIGHER.
Modi's boots felt as though they had been anchored to the floor.
He stared at the ink for twenty seconds. He unpinned the parchment, turned, and
marched toward the requisition window.
"Young unit," the woman in the ponytail spoke. Her voice was a flat drone, not
so much calling to him as simply stating a fact. "Do you possess the data on
what a 'Cross-Tier Challenge' signifies?"
Modi paused. "Three hundred gold coins."
The woman—Kayla—lowered her eyelids, auditing his Iron-Tier Badge.
"It signifies that you will terminate in the mud. You will decay. Your biomass
will provide nutrients for the very herbs the next squad will be sent to
gather." She spoke with a measured, rhythmic cadence. "The world is in a state
of 'Order' now. The Empire is building everywhere. There is ample low-risk
labor. Why does a Tier 2 youth seek to engage a Tier 3 monster? Logically, it is
an error."
Modi calculated for three seconds. Then he resumed his march toward the window.
"I am accepting the contract," he stated, sliding the parchment across the
counter.
The registrar was a young girl who audited his badge and the paper with a look
of structural hesitation. "The recommended deployment for this target is a full
Tier 3 squad..."
"The requirement is Tier 2 or higher," Modi countered. "My parameters meet the
criteria."
The girl let out a long sigh and applied the Imperial Seal.
Kayla watched from her pillar, rotating her cup slowly. "Identify yourself,
recruit."
"Modi."
"Kayla," she nodded once, ceasing her attempt at logic-correction. "If you
achieve extraction, report to me. I require confirmation of your status."
Modi slung his pack and exited the hall. He stepped into the morning glare of
the capital, his boots striking the fresh obsidian stone.
Kayla watched him go, then looked at the "Lost Cat" notice for a moment before
walking to the window.
"Provide the data for the herb-gathering mission."
The Forest Swamp. East of the Iron Fortress.
Transit time: Half a day on foot.
By the time Modi arrived, his boots were saturated with moisture and his cuffs
were coated in black sludge. The atmosphere held a high density of rotting
timber and stagnant water.
He crouched behind a crooked tree, staring at a clearing thirty meters ahead.
The Boar King was present.
The specimen was significantly larger than the archive descriptions suggested.
Its shoulders were level with the top of Modi's skull. Its frame was a moving
wall of tusk and muscle. The tusks were as long and sharp as cavalry sabers. Mud
from the swamp struck its hide and slid off as if hitting solid stone.
Tier 3 Magical Beast. Full Maturity.
Modi swallowed hard. On the transit here, he had formulated a hundred tactical
models: harassment, attrition, kiting maneuvers.
Now, heLocalized a "Lethal Flaw" in his plans. The Boar King's movement-velocity
was statistically higher than his own legs could match.
Before he could finalize a new strategy, the beast's nostrils flared. It
swiveled its massive skull toward his coordinate. Red eyes locked onto the tree.
NIGERUNDAYO.
Modi lunged from cover, breaking into a desperate sprint.
The ground shivered. The Boar King followed.
Four massive hooves slammed into the muck with a sound like war-drums. Small
trees were shredded as it tore through the thicket. Modi seized a thick branch
and hauled himself upward, reaching three meters just as the Boar King slammed
into the trunk. The impact nearly terminated his grip; he dug his fingers into
the bark, holding on by sheer desperation.
He looked down. The beast was circling the base, tusks gouging the wood, red
eyes fixed on him with a mindless fury.
Modi drew his short-sword, his grip white-knuckled. He prepared to initiate a
"Drop-Strike"—aiming for the beast's neck.
The probability of success was...
He didn't finish the math. The beast lunged again.
Modi jumped.
He overcompensated.
He missed the spine, sliding down the creature's flank and tumbling into the
mud. He managed a single, shallow slash across the ribs, but against a Tier 3
hide, the damage was a null-value.
A tusk whistled past his ear, missing his skull by less than twenty centimeters.
Modi scrambled up, racing through the sludge, his face a mask of mud and sweat.
He skidded on a slick stone, his knee striking a jagged edge with a sharp crack.
He could hear the wind of the second charge behind him.
System failure imminen—
The thought was cut short as a figure erupted from the brush.
It didn't run. It crashed into the clearing.
A tall unit. Heavy plate-armor. An obsidian longsword. The angle of the
intercept was surgical—calculated for maximum kinetic impact. The blade swept in
a low arc, cutting into the Boar King's shoulder joint and severing the primary
motor-tendons of the leading leg.
The Boar King's momentum was broken. It tilted violently, plowing a trench into
the mud as it let out a deafening, earth-shaking shriek.
The newcomer landed with an anchored center, pinning the beast's back with a
single greave while holding his sword to its throat.
But a Tier 3 does not terminate easily. The beast's bristles ignited with a
red-hot magical Od. It thrashed with a manic strength that nearly unseated the
knight.
"Piers," a voice called out. It was calm. Disciplined. Absolute.
A second silhouette stepped from the trees.
He didn't charge. He walked with a measured, almost effortless grace. He halted
at the edge of the clearing and slowly raised his right hand. His index finger
curved, and a microscopic, orange-red magical circle ignited at the tip—a single
mote of fire compressed to its physical limit.
"Execute."
Snap.
A tiny, sharp sound. Then, an atmospheric roar.
A [Concentrated Flare] shot from his fingertip, burrowing into the gap in the
beast's neck opened by the sword. It detonated internally.
It wasn't a standard explosion, but a localized burst of thermal pressure.
The Boar King's shriek was deleted. Its head fell into the mud with a final,
heavy thud.
Silence reclaimed the swamp, broken only by the distant croaking of frogs.
Modi sat in the muck, still clutching his short-sword. His current status could
be summarized as: Logic-Core Offline.
The boy who had stepped from the trees approached. He was roughly the same
height as Modi, with pale hair and simple traveling clothes. He carried no
weapon, but his finger still emitted a faint trail of heat. He knelt in the mud,
performing a visual audit of the survivor.
"Are your parameters stable?"
Modi stared at him. He stared at the finger. He stared at the liquidated King.
"You... you look like my peer," Modi rasped. "How is your output this high?"
The boy pondered the query for a heartbeat. A tiny, almost invisible smile
touched his lips, though his eyes remained relaxed.
"Maintain your confidence," he said. "And anchor your conviction."
Modi: "..."
The Knight—Piers—walked over and hoisted Modi from the dirt as if he were a
wayward kitten. He stabilized the boy's arm and performed a quick check of the
knee-trauma.
"Shallow. No structural failure. Cleanse the wound upon return."
The tone was efficient. Zero fluff.
Modi's eyes drifted to the knight's shoulder-plate. He localized a crest—the
pattern of the old Empire of Vollachia Knight Order. It had been sanded down,
the original details erased, leaving only the primary silhouette.
Modi recognized the relic. The Vollachia Imperial Guard. Old model.
These weren't common adventurers. These were something else.
☆☆☆
-> 20 Advanced chapters Now Available on Patreon!!
-> https://www.pat-reon.co-m/c/Hollowborn
(Just remove the hyphen (-) to access patreon normally)
If you like this novel please consider leaving a review that's help the story a lot Thank you