Adventurer of Many Professions

Nestled between rolling fields and patches of woodland, Budak Village was a modest settlement of dozens of houses, their thatched roofs weathered by time. At the village entrance, a carriage stood parked, surrounded by a gathering of villagers; men, women, the elderly, and even children, all dressed in simple cloth garments. Their expressions carried a mix of anticipation and worry.

As the carriage door swung open, an elderly man with half-white hair stepped down, greeted instantly by relieved voices.

"Village Chief, you've finally returned!"

The crowd surged forward as more figures climbed out of the carriage; two middle-aged men, their clothes stained with dried blood.

A woman in her forties gasped sharply, rushing toward them. "Stark! Nezer! Are you alright?" Her hands trembled as she brushed against their tunics, fingers grazing over the faded crimson stains.

Nezer, a broad-shouldered man with tired eyes, gave a weak chuckle. "Don't worry, Maya. The temple priests healed us."

The village chief, Gamens, stroked his mustache with a smile. "Both of them were in critical condition, so the temple took them in immediately. Otherwise, we might have lost them."

Stark, the second injured villager, nodded, his voice filled with wonder. "I never imagined I'd be healed by a priest… It's like a miracle. When I got wounded, I thought I was done for. But the priestess just placed her hand over me, and suddenly, the pain was gone!"

Beside him, Moses, the other survivor, had awe in his eyes. "It was incredible! The light from her hands, it was warm, like the sun itself."

Though their faces were still pale from blood loss, their wounds had vanished. With time, they would fully recover.

Gamens nodded sagely. "That's how it is. The priests only heal those whose lives are in immediate danger. If you're just injured but not dying, they won't bother, unless you're an adventurer."

There was a murmur of agreement among the villagers.

A younger man scoffed. "Tch. Of course, they heal adventurers first. Regular folk like us don't matter unless we're on death's door."

A grizzled farmer beside him sighed. "It may seem unfair, but think about it… Adventurers risk their lives fighting monsters. If they don't get healed, they die, and the monsters roam free. In the end, that only puts us in more danger."

The village chief nodded. "Exactly. The priests heal adventurers so they can keep fighting. We might not like it, but that's just the way of the world."

Silence fell over the villagers as they pondered his words.

After a moment, one man muttered, "I remember the last time we issued a goblin extermination request… Four adventurers took the job. One died. Another was crippled. That's the reality of their work."

A woman beside him shuddered. "I used to envy them, earning silver and gold, traveling across the land. But after seeing what happens to them out there… I'm not so sure anymore."

The crowd fell into uneasy quiet, the weight of reality settling over them.

"The greater the ability, the greater the responsibility," sighed Village Chief Gamens, his voice heavy with the weight of the villagers' expectations. His half-white hair rustled slightly in the breeze as he gazed at the worried faces before him.

A middle-aged man stepped forward, his expression tense. "Village Chief, did you go to Wittes Town to issue the commission? When will the adventurers arrive?"

Another villager, a wiry man with sun-worn skin, spoke up anxiously. "Yes, Village Chief! My home has been taken over by those cursed red-eyed crows. I can't even set foot inside! And while Stark and Nezer are healed, what good will it do if the crows keep attacking? My house will be in ruins if this goes on!"
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Murmurs of agreement rippled through the crowd before an older woman, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, added bitterly, "We've already lost too much. To keep the crows from attacking people, we've been sacrificing our livestock, a sheep a day! If this continues, the village's losses will be unbearable!"

The villagers erupted in tense conversation, voices overlapping with frustration and concern. Though they had all agreed to share the burden, there was only so much they could endure before desperation set in.

Gamens raised a wrinkled hand, motioning for silence. "I understand, truly," he said solemnly. "After bringing Stark and Nezer to the temple, we wasted no time posting the request at the Adventurer's Guild. But…" He hesitated, then sighed, "We have no way of knowing how soon an adventurer will accept it. There are many commissions at the guild, and whether ours is chosen quickly or not is beyond our control."

A heavy silence fell over the villagers. The last time they had issued a goblin extermination request, it had taken a full day before an adventurer finally accepted it. What if this time was the same? Or worse, what if no one took the mission at all?

Seeing their spirits sink, Gamens quickly added, "But! When I submitted the request, the guild staff told me that many adventurers would likely compete for this commission. There's a good chance someone is already on their way."

The shift was immediate.

"Really? That's great!" A few villagers perked up, their expressions easing with relief.

Just then, a sharp-eyed young man standing near the entrance pointed toward the road. "Look! Another carriage is coming!"

Heads turned in unison.

Rumbling down the dirt path was a second carriage, kicking up a thin trail of dust behind it. Unlike the one the village chief had arrived in, this one hadn't yet drawn its curtains, allowing the villagers to see four figures sitting inside, three women and one man.

"Could it be? An adventurer has already accepted our request?" a villager asked, his voice tinged with excitement.

A skeptical older man shook his head. "No way. The village chief just got back. There's no way someone accepted the request this quickly. They're probably just passing through to Sagla Forest."

The road between Wittes Town and Sgla Forest ran through Budak Village, so it was common for adventurers to pass by without stopping.

The first villager frowned but conceded, "Yeah… and look at them. They're so young. Probably just White Porcelain-level adventurers. Our request is ranked Black Iron; it's no easy task."

Even Gamens was hesitant. He, too, assumed they were merely passing travelers.

"Well, it's about time to feed the red-eyed crows anyway," he muttered, glancing toward the livestock pen. "Let's go prepare the sheep—"

Before he could finish, the carriage suddenly slowed to a stop right in front of them.

The carriage door swung open, and the four adventurers stepped out.

Leading them was a young man clad in light armor, a long sword hanging at his waist, and an arm shield secured to his left hand. His short, tousled hair caught the fading sunlight, and his sharp eyes scanned the crowd before landing on the village chief.

"Excuse me," he spoke in a clear, steady voice. "Is this Budak Village?"

Gamens blinked, startled.

Of course, it was Budak Village, there was a wooden sign right in front of them marking it clearly. The adventurers had undoubtedly seen it from their carriage. Yet, the young man still asked, a subtle way to introduce himself rather than simply barging in.

After a brief pause, Gamens straightened and stepped forward. "Yes, yes! This is Budak Village. May I ask…" He swallowed, almost afraid to hope. "Are you the adventurers who accepted the mission to exterminate the red-eyed crows?"

The villagers held their breath, waiting for an answer.