After accepting the quest, Adrian Vale's first instinct was simple.
Go into the forest.
Find the werewolf.
End it.
A supernatural creature?
He dismissed the thought almost immediately.
"…Still flesh and blood."
He had already forced it to tear off its own arm just to escape.
That alone was enough.
Whatever it was—
It could bleed.
And anything that could bleed—
Could be killed.
He was ready to leave at once.
But Brittany's grandmother stopped him.
"Sir Vale," she said, her tone calm but firm, "there is no need to rush."
She brought out the contents of the basket Brittany had carried—cake, wine—and set them neatly on the table.
"Please. Eat first. Rest."
Adrian didn't argue.
Not because he needed rest—
But because her reasoning made sense.
"The creature has been gravely wounded," she continued. "Right now, it will be hiding somewhere in the forest, tending to its injuries."
Her gaze held steady.
"You have the strength to kill it, I do not doubt that. But in a forest this large, finding it is not so simple."
Adrian's eyes shifted slightly.
That was true.
Strength alone didn't solve everything.
Tracking mattered.
Efficiency mattered.
"I have already sent word to an old friend," she added. "A hunter."
"He will arrive this afternoon."
Adrian considered that.
A specialist in tracking.
Someone familiar with the terrain.
"He knows how to hunt creatures like this," she said. "If the two of you work together, no matter how cunning that werewolf is… it will not escape."
Adrian gave a short nod.
"Understood."
Preparation, then.
After finishing the meal, Adrian made a request.
"A whetstone."
It was brought to him without question.
He sat down in the yard, drawing his sword across his lap.
The blade was beautiful.
Elegant.
Perfectly balanced.
But—
Dull.
No modern tools.
No machinery.
No shortcuts.
So he worked it by hand.
Stone met steel.
Again.
And again.
Each stroke was controlled.
Measured.
Precise.
Most would have tired quickly.
But Adrian—
Did not.
His body moved with tireless consistency.
Muscle and bone working in perfect coordination, applying steady pressure without fluctuation.
Time passed.
The edge slowly formed.
A thin, cold gleam began to run along the blade.
Subtle.
But unmistakable.
Sharp enough.
Lethal enough.
"…Should've brought a finished one."
The thought crossed his mind briefly.
Back home, he had better weapons.
Real ones.
Fully sharpened.
Ready.
But—
It didn't matter now.
This would do.
By the time the sun had shifted lower in the sky—
Someone arrived.
Footsteps.
Heavy.
Deliberate.
Adrian didn't look up immediately.
But his body had already registered it.
A man entered the yard.
Tall.
Broad-shouldered.
Weathered.
A longbow rested across his back.
A hunting knife hung at his waist.
His presence was quiet—
But dangerous.
The moment he saw Adrian—
He froze.
A stranger.
In armor.
Standing here.
Something changed in his eyes.
Shock—
Then something darker.
His breathing stalled.
His gaze sharpened.
Too late…
The thought hit him hard.
And with it—
Rage.
For a brief moment, he believed the worst.
That he had arrived only to find what remained.
The air shifted.
The man's presence hardened instantly.
His body tensed like a drawn bow.
Adrian felt it.
And responded.
His head lifted.
Their eyes met.
The hunter's killing intent was raw.
Unrefined.
Forged through years of surviving against things that could fight back.
Adrian's reaction—
Was instinct.
Not caution.
Not restraint.
Engagement.
His fingers adjusted slightly around the sword.
The blade tilted.
Light ran along its newly sharpened edge.
Then—
A pressure spread.
Invisible.
But undeniable.
It came from Adrian.
Heavy.
Calm.
Absolute.
The hunter's body trembled faintly.
Not from fear—
But from instinct.
Recognition.
This was not prey.
But he didn't step back.
Instead, he reached for his knife.
If something had happened—
If even the smallest chance remained—
Then he would fight.
Even if it meant dying.
The moment stretched.
Tight.
Until—
"Baren!"
The old woman stepped out from the house.
Alive.
Everything broke.
The hunter froze.
Then exhaled sharply.
"…Bona…"
Relief flooded through him.
His posture loosened, the tension draining away almost instantly.
"You're… alright…"
Brittany stepped out as well, waving lightly.
"I'm fine too!"
The misunderstanding became obvious.
The old woman quickly explained everything.
The encounter.
The werewolf.
The arm.
By the time she finished—
The hunter's face had turned red.
He stepped forward, then bowed deeply.
"Sir… please forgive my rudeness…"
His words were awkward.
Repeated.
Unpolished.
Adrian watched him for a moment.
Then nodded.
"It's fine."
Simple.
Direct.
Enough.
The hunter let out a breath.
Then looked up again.
This time—
Properly.
At the man before him.
The armor.
The posture.
The presence.
Respect formed quietly.
Adrian, meanwhile, evaluated him in silence.
Strong.
No system prompt.
No data.
But the conclusion was clear.
This man—
Was not weaker than the werewolf.
Adrian activated Insight Eye.
[Baren]
Nothing else.
No values.
No indicators.
"…So only certain targets display data."
He dismissed the thought.
For now.
The hunter had arrived.
Which meant—
They could move.
"We go now," Adrian said.
Baren nodded immediately.
"If we wait, it may relocate," Adrian added.
No argument.
The old woman turned to the hunter.
"Your dogs?"
"Outside," Baren replied. "I didn't bring them in."
A whistle.
From beyond the yard, barking answered.
Controlled.
Disciplined.
Good.
Then—
The old woman turned to Brittany.
"Take off the cloak."
Brittany hesitated for the briefest moment—
Then obeyed.
She loved it.
Wore it every day.
But she still took it off.
Without complaint.
And handed it to Adrian.
The old woman spoke.
"This cloak carries a protective enchantment."
Her voice was steady.
"As long as you wear it, most evil creatures and curses will not be able to harm you."
Adrian's eyes shifted slightly.
"…That explains it."
The reaction earlier.
The light.
The werewolf's retreat.
Everything connected.
"I cannot go with you," she added quietly.
Injury.
Limitation.
"So let this aid you instead."
Adrian took the cloak.
It was lighter than expected.
Warm.
But beneath that—
There was something else.
Contained.
Subtle.
Power.
He placed it over his shoulders.
The red fabric settled naturally against his armor.
He adjusted his grip on the sword.
Tested the edge once more.
Sharp.
Sufficient.
Adrian straightened.
Preparation—
Complete.