James made his way to the Mission Hall, his pack weighted with the Crimson Fang King's core and harvested materials from the beasts he had slain. Inside, the hall bustled with activity—hunters, scouts, and officials processing reports and distributing rewards from the battle beyond the walls.
Approaching the counter, he met the sharp gaze of a clerk—a woman with neatly tied hair and a no-nonsense demeanor. She gestured toward the pack.
"Turning in materials?"
James gave a brief nod and set the Crimson Fang King's core, hide, and additional remains onto the counter. The clerk's eyebrows lifted slightly at the sight of them.
"You were assigned the subjugation mission for the Crimson Fang pack, correct?" she asked, flipping through the records. She found the mission entry, confirmed the completion, and began tallying his reward.
Mission Completion: Subjugation of the Crimson Fang Pack
- Crimson Fang King Core → 500 credits
- Crimson Fang Hide → 200 credits
- Fang Remnants (Processed for weapon crafting) →150 credits
- Rare Beast Saliva (Used in high-grade alchemy) → 50 credits
- Completion Bonus for Pack Subjugation → 100 credits
Total Earnings: 1,000 credits
She turned to the crystal card reader, inputting the transaction details before placing James's crystal card onto the scanner. A soft pulse of blue light signaled the successful update, and she handed it back.
Updated Balance: 1,260 credits
"Credits transferred," she confirmed, offering him a slight nod of respect. "Not many can claim a mission completion like this. The researchers are particularly interested in your encounter—if you're willing, they'd like to hear your observations about the Crimson Fang King."
James took the card, his fingers tightening slightly around the smooth surface , as he glanced toward the research wing of the Mission Hall.
James offered a brief nod to the clerk, slipping his crystal card back into his pack.
"Appreciate the confirmation," he said. "But I'll have to pass on the discussion."
The clerk raised an eyebrow but didn't press the issue, simply marking the transaction complete.
James turned away, weaving through the bustling Mission Hall, the weight of the encounter still lingering in his thoughts. The researchers might offer insight, but right now, he had other priorities.
As he stepped back into the open streets, the city hummed with quiet recovery—the remains of battle fading into routine, yet a strange unease still hung in the air.
James took his time wandering through Westmere , letting the city unfold before him in ways it hadn't during the chaos of battle. Now, with no immediate threat looming, he could truly take in the sights—the markets brimming with traders, the bustling streets weaving through districts filled with craftsmen, scholars, and warriors alike.
He noted landmarks, committing their locations to memory. The sprawling Academy grounds, towering over the southern district, stood as a reminder of the path he was about to embark on. Training halls, libraries, even hidden alleyways—he mapped it all in his mind, knowing this city would soon be his home.
The air shifted as sunset approached, the warm hues of twilight casting long shadows over the rooftops. The hum of daily life gradually softened, lanterns flickering to life one by one, painting the streets in golden light.
With a slow exhale, James turned back toward the Silver Crest Hotel.
As James stepped into the Silver Crest Hotel lobby, the warm glow of lanterns contrasted with the weight of his thoughts. The battle was over, but loose ends remained—ones that could shift in unpredictable ways. Just as he was about to ascend the stairs, the receptionist called out to him.
"A letter arrived for you this afternoon," she said, holding out a sealed envelope.
James took it, feeling the thick paper between his fingers. There was weight to it—not just in significance, but physically. He slipped it into his pack and made his way upstairs.
Once inside his room, he set the envelope onto his desk, its wax seal gleaming faintly in the low light. Moving to the bathroom, he washed off the remnants of the day—the dust from wandering, the lingering tension from everything that had unfolded.
Refreshed, he returned to his desk and carefully broke the seal. As the envelope opened, a card and a sheet of paper slipped onto the wooden surface.
His eyes immediately caught the Bronze Rank Crystal Card, its smooth, polished surface holding an unmistakable shimmer. He picked it up, feeling its familiar weight—the kind that marked wealth, influence, and earned status.
Then, his gaze shifted to the letter, written in Commander Rhen's firm, precise handwriting.
_"Thanks to your help, we've put a stop to the illegal trade activity."_
James exhaled slowly, absorbing the confirmation. That fight had been far deeper than a simple mission—it had shaped the fate of the town itself.
_"The mayor and his people have been dealt with."_
The corruption had been cut out. The town could breathe again. But as his eyes flicked further down the page, his grip on the card tightened.
_"Included is your reward—20,000 credits, transferred to this Bronze Rank Crystal Card."_
A substantial sum, marking his contributions not just in combat but in unraveling the deeper schemes that had plagued the town. Yet, the next lines of the letter shifted the tone entirely.
_"Be wary—Leon, the mayor's son, was absent during his father's downfall. He had already left, seeking his to-be master alongside the black-robed examiner."_
James's thoughts stilled.
_"Stay vigilant. Retaliation is possible."_
The weight of the warning settled deep. Leon had escaped the purge. He had allies. He had a reason to return.
For now, James was safe. But safety was fleeting, and revenge had no deadline.
At the bottom of the letter, one last note was scrawled in Commander Rhen's writing
P.S :- The crystal card is an unnamed one, use it wisely.
James ran his thumb over the edge of the Bronze Rank Crystal Card, absorbing the meaning behind those final words. Anonymity had its advantages. And its risks.
He leaned back in his chair, eyes lingering on the letter, thoughts turning.
One thing was certain—this wasn't over. And for him to survive he had to become stronger.
===============================