The last manifestation

At that moment, Ace raised his hand, signaling that he was heading to the request board to take on another mission. The receptionist continued to stare at him, her eyes filled with countless silent questions. Upon reaching the board, Ace stood studying the postings. His gaze wandered from line to line before he frowned slightly, eyes still moving between the sheets. He stopped at one in particular—a bronze-ranked request poster. It read:

 "Slay the beast. Moderate threat. Reward: 500 silver coins."

The reward was tempting, making it an ideal choice for a higher-tier mission where he could test his ability to rise in rank. Once he made his decision, he tore the poster from the board and returned to the receptionist. She had by then regained her composure and began examining the request sheet. Then she said:

"The creature mentioned in this request is called a Dragon fire . It's a reptilian beast, no taller than an average man, but far more dangerous than it appears. Its body is covered in orange scales that give it a distinct look, reflecting light like shards of diamond, making it resemble a burning ember. Its eyes are small but reflect a sharp intelligence."

She lifted her eyes to Ace, her voice turning more serious as she continued:

"It has four small claws on each arm—don't be fooled by their size, they're sharper than sword blades. As for its tail, that's where the real danger lies. It's long, ending in a pointed tip capable of piercing steel and armor. And its deadliest weapon… is fire. Fire is its primary ability. It can shoot it either as fireballs with pinpoint accuracy or in streams of flame that cover a wide attack range."

She then went on to explain that the beast had caused quite a bit of unrest over the past few weeks. News had spread about a monster preying on merchant caravans along the road leading to town. It remained hidden from sight, striking like a skilled thief, targeting caravans carrying meat.

The attacks weren't limited to ambushes. There were also reports of small fires ignited along the road's edge, as if the creature was marking its territory in its own way. The damage wasn't extensive, but it had impacted the local economy, forcing many merchants to take longer routes—raising travel costs and slowing down trade.

Despite all the destruction, there were no reported casualties. That aspect of the story intrigued many. How could a creature so fierce avoid killing? Was it toying with travelers for amusement, or was it merely playing a cruel game? That wasn't the only question on Ace's mind, but he hadn't had the time to search for an answer. What occupied his thoughts was the posted reward for eliminating the threat. It was decent—enough to cover some needs—but not substantial enough to attract veteran adventurers, those who only moved when heavy coin purses gleamed in front of them.

He then asked whether the beast was more dangerous than the Black Demon Rabbit. Seeing his calm, fearless expression, the receptionist blinked a few times before smiling gently and saying:

"It's less dangerous than the Black Demon Rabbit, and the reward is better!"

She said it with confident enthusiasm, as if trying to entice him, perhaps to make up for the previous mission that yielded him little. She fell silent afterward, maybe realizing she had shown too much excitement.

Ace needed only a moment to decide before raising his head and asking what part of the beast he should bring back as proof of completing the task. She told him the creature's eyes were required, and that the higher their quality, the higher the price he could receive.

Her last words caught him off guard, prompting him to ask what she meant. She explained that the guild sometimes purchased resources adventurers brought back from their missions, providing them with an extra income beyond the task's reward. These materials would then be refined and prepared for resale or use. After that explanation, her colleague whispered something to her. The receptionist pulled out a small pouch of coins and said:

"And this, Mr. Ace, is your due payment—380 silver coins. One hundred is the mission reward, and 280 is the value assessed for the quality of the Black Demon Rabbit's ears."

Her words flowed quietly, but their impact on Ace was striking. His expression changed instantly, as if the cold mask he usually wore to hide his emotions had been stripped away. The receptionist watched him with quiet surprise, noticing the spark that lit up in his brown eyes. To him, money wasn't just a number.

He reached for the pouch but didn't open it. He didn't need to. He could feel the weight of the silver coins inside. He never expected that a pair of ears from a small black rabbit—strange as it might seem—could be worth so much. He looked down at the pouch in his hand, realizing that value often didn't lie in the object itself, but in the journey taken to obtain it. The ears weren't special in shape or texture, but the demon rabbit they were taken from had been dangerous—perhaps even rare. The worth wasn't in the fur or skin, but in the blood spilled to possess them.

He placed the pouch in his pocket, then looked up at the receptionist and said softly:

"Thank you."

He then glanced at the mission request sheet and declared, his voice firm and resolute:

"I'll take this mission."

The receptionist nodded in understanding, then pulled out a sturdy leather ledger. She opened it and recorded his name and the mission number. The sound of her pen scratching against the paper felt like an official proclamation. The words she wrote carried a weight he had yet to grasp. While she was recording the details, Ace took the opportunity to ask another question that had been on his mind. Still gazing at the mission sheet, he said:

"Excuse me, miss. If I may ask—why don't the town's knights handle threats like this to protect the caravans? Isn't that part of their duty?"

At his question, she paused and let out a long sigh, as if she had heard it countless times before. There was no boredom in her exhale, but a mix of frustration and resignation to an unchangeable reality. She raised her eyes to meet his, and in her gaze was the experience of many years spent working in this place. She said:

"Knights, for the most part, are trained to deal with people—bandits and thieves. But monsters... that's a different matter. As long as they don't directly threaten city or village walls, they're left to the adventurers."

The answer wasn't entirely surprising, but it added another layer of understanding to the image forming in Ace's mind—an image of this world's system, of its unwritten laws and roles that could not be broken.

He recalled what the receptionist had told him earlier about the relationship between adventurers and the authorities—that adventurers usually didn't receive tasks directly from governing bodies unless in exceptional cases, and that authorities didn't interfere in the adventurers' specialized work. It was a delicate balance between two sides held together by unspoken agreements. Adventurers, who wandered in search of challenges, couldn't be bound by rigid rules that tethered them to one place. Their nomadic nature made them unreliable as permanent guardians of any region. Knights, on the other hand, operated within a clearly defined structure—they couldn't abandon their posts or take on missions beyond their jurisdiction. This dynamic, simple as it was, granted a certain level of stability to society in this distant world, where everyone knew their role.

Finally, the receptionist gave him detailed directions to the road in question. Before he left, he asked whether he needed to dispose of the corpse bag himself. She shook her head, indicating that she would take care of it. He thanked her, then turned and headed out.