Thin Mist Forest, outskirts.
It was broad daylight. Pale gray mist drifted gently through the air like a fine veil of gauze.
Only the occasional breeze brushed past, stirring the branches with a faint "sha sha" rustle, rolling the thin mist aside and revealing the forest's outline amid the silence.
Crack—
With the soft sound of brittle leaves and rotting soil grinding together under pressure, a fallen branch that was not especially thick was snapped beneath a boot descending from above, making an abrupt, ill-timed noise.
An off-white robe hung to her ankles, its hem flecked with bits of grass and dirt. Her dark chestnut high ponytail swayed neatly from side to side as she moved, like a small, lively, fluffy tail.
Vior walked alone deep in the forest.
Her slender, frail frame and utterly defenseless attire made her look nothing like someone who could move normally through Thin Mist Forest.
And her overly calm, composed expression, paired with that fair, delicate young face, made her current surroundings seem less like a gathering place for Monsters filled with every kind of danger, and more like some quiet, safe little garden.
Compared with the lingering fear and alarm she had felt when she first left the Adventurers Association, Vior had now recovered the calm bearing she ought to display as a veteran.
At some point, a staff had appeared in her hand, gray-white from end to end, its surface veined with natural, dark, threadlike patterns.
Perhaps its seemingly plain appearance could not reflect its value, but the black opal embedded at the tip of the staff was enough on its own to prove how expensive it had been to make: an exceptionally pure stone, shadowed within and flecked with gold, of which even a piece the size of a fingernail could