The First Vanguard Sets Out

Flora did not agree immediately. Instead, she rested a finger against her chin and thought it over.

"There is an opportunity better than putting it in a potion shop."

"The Guild has recently been looking for potion merchants to cooperate on orders because it is organizing a large-scale clearing operation."

"Aunt Morwenna has been worrying over it too."

"The Silver Bottle Alchemy Firm from White River City has a wide variety of potions and an advantage in supply channels, so they pose a serious threat."

"However, hemostatic medicines are very suitable for competing over the next batch of orders."

"The joint clearing operation will last six days. The first vanguard will set out today. We failed to win that order, so Aunt Morwenna will definitely have to fight tooth and nail for the second batch."

"Although many experienced adventurers can make Hemostatic Ointment themselves, the effects of yours..."

Flora glanced at the rabbit in the cage, which had already begun hopping around energetically.

"This is already very close to the effects of a Trollblood Potion, and it has a greater cost advantage."

"If it is launched on the market, it will definitely be highly competitive."

Thinking of this, the girl nodded to herself in affirmation.

"There should not be any problem putting it in the shop. If we are lucky, it might even make it onto the Guild's procurement list. I will talk to Aunt Morwenna as soon as I get back."

Although nothing had been finalized yet, her confident expression made it clear that she was already certain of success.

Lance was overjoyed.

As long as he opened up this sales channel, it would be like owning a hen that laid golden eggs.

"Sorry for the trouble, future potion master."

Lance smiled happily and pressed his palms together in thanks.

"Once I make some money, I'll treat you to a feast. Order whatever you want."

At the words "feast," Flora swallowed, and the snacks in her apron pocket suddenly did not seem so appealing anymore.

"Then it's settled!"

The two quickly reached a "deal."

Lance packed all the small jars of Lance-Brand Special Hemostatic Ointment he had stayed up late making the previous night into the shoulder bag Flora had brought.

He kept only two jars for himself as backups.

He also repaid Flora all the money he had owed her for buying books.

After seeing off Flora, who left laden with goods, Lance did not idle around.

Today was his day off at the Guild, so he did not need to sit behind the counter.

It was the perfect chance to earn some extra money in the forest while building up some Skill Experience and Knowledge Experience.

Lance proficiently dragged the heavy equipment chest out from beneath his bed.

He changed into studded leather armor, tightened his greaves, and hung the polished shortsword at his waist.

Finally, he pulled on the oversized hood, hiding most of his face in shadow.

The scribe Lance vanished.

Now, he was the adventurer Raven.

He stuffed the last two jars of ointment into his belt pouch and checked the hazel shortbow and quiver on his back.

Then he set off for the Adventurers' Guild.

The moment he pushed open the Guild's heavy doors, an atmosphere of tension utterly unlike usual washed over him.

The adventurers still milling about the Guild hall wore less of their usual playful grins and more solemn expressions.

The first batch of logistical supplies for the joint clearing operation had already been assembled.

Crates of supplies bearing the Guild's seals were piled on one side of the hall by porters shouting in rhythm, nearly forming a small mountain.

According to the battle plan posted on the notice board, this operation would use a "three-stage relay" advance.

The first vanguard had already finished preparing and was expected to formally set out today, pushing into Copper Creek Forest.

Although the notice had only been posted yesterday, the first vanguard had not actually been recruited and assembled from it. They had been personally selected by the Guildmaster.

Their mission was both difficult and clear.

They had to forcibly seize a safe area to serve as a forward base for the forces behind them, then use it as a springboard to clear the way for the two waves that would follow.

The latter two waves would repeatedly comb through the occupied territory like a comb, until they had fully achieved the strategic objective of advancing five kilometers deeper into the forest.

As the pathfinders, the first wave's blades were pointed directly at Thornspike Hill.

It was a long-established medium-sized Goblin nest, surrounded by eight scattered smaller settlements. Like a malignant tumor, it held the forest's vital passage in its grip.

Beyond clearing out the adult monsters, the more crucial objective was to destroy the nursery chambers and food storage caves deep within the nest.

They intended to cut off the Goblins at the root and completely eliminate their means of rapid reproduction.

Besides the Goblins, there were also several other monster nests slightly smaller than a medium-sized nest for the vanguard to deal with.

Lance stood at the edge of the crowd, his gaze sweeping across the adventurers in the center of the hall who were preparing to depart.

There were nearly a hundred of them.

They wore well-maintained chainmail or leather armor, their weapons gleaming coldly as they quietly discussed tactical coordination with one another.

Even from afar, Lance could feel the killing intent around them.

This was the true foundation of an Adventurers' Guild.

"What a sight."

Lance lowered the brim of his hood and could not help sighing inwardly as he watched those people who were about to dance upon the edge of a blade.

A mobilization on this scale was indeed rare in a remote border town like Grayrock Town.

But he knew his own place very well.

For Lance, this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

War meant bloodshed, and bloodshed meant a need for potions.

He could practically imagine how sought-after the special-effect hemostatic ointments in his hands would become when those vanguard members were exhausted and covered in wounds after fighting Goblins in the jungle.

Lance skillfully avoided the crowd and headed to the quiet low-level quest window.

He casually accepted a simple commission to gather Silverflake Grass.

His main purpose this time was to continue accumulating Skill Experience and Knowledge Experience through gathering commissions, while taking advantage of the vanguard clearing dangers ahead to collect some Blood-Clotting Moss.

Although the materials he gathered himself would be little more than a drop in the bucket once he formally began producing Hemostatic Ointment.

He would definitely still need to spend money buying raw materials from others.

However, Lance considered that once he stepped into the world of professionals, there would certainly be plenty of places where he would need to spend money.

So he had to start watching his expenses now.

Save a little on materials today and a little more tomorrow, and it would add up to a considerable amount over time.

On the other hand, he could also stay behind the vanguard. If the time came, he could retreat alongside the wounded, learn how they used their potions, and roughly estimate how much he would need to produce next.

Make a big score, then take another step closer to his dream of going to Ostella.

After completing the paperwork, Lance tucked the parchment commission slip into his clothes and strode quickly toward the doors with his head lowered.

Just as he stepped out of the Guild and squinted slightly in the glare of the sunlight outside.

A voice filled with mild surprise suddenly came from behind him.

"Senior!"

Lance stopped, his brow furrowing slightly beneath his hood.

Was that calling him?

He instinctively pressed a hand against the hilt at his waist and slowly turned around.

At the foot of the Guild's steps stood a blond youth carrying a longsword on his back.

The youth's face held a hint of awkwardness.

It was Damian, the very same person Lance had mercilessly chewed out that day.

Damian, standing below the steps, looked vastly different from when Lance had last seen him.

He wore leather armor similar in style to Lance's, but its once-smooth surface was now covered in many fresh scratches.

Lance recognized the uneven tears as the work of some canine creature's claws.

It seemed the kid had been doing quite a bit of close-quarters fighting with Gnolls lately.

Looking at the boots on his feet, their toes and sides were caked with dried dark-red mud. He had clearly spent plenty of time crawling through the forest's muddy swamps.