[Alice Drakea POV]

I’m currently on my way to the city of Rauterdale to finish up a deal for my father. He’s trying to sell the golden wheat grown there to the people of Gulfhaven, our hometown.

I, along with my escort of adventurers, have been warned about the roads between Gulfhaven and Rauterdale. Specifically the point inside the Forest of Verdant Wind. Goblins, Orcs, Gnolls, and Ogres have been growing restless recently. Some believe an ancient dragon has awoken and caused chaos, because of the tale of the Great Hero.

Apparently, the last time the monster races went nuts like this was when the ancient dragon Morgaroth the Sin of Sloth awoke. The so-called frenzy only stopped when the Great Hero, Leander Flambrin, drove a spear carved from the world tree tipped with the divine iron left behind from a fallen star through its heart.

That was well over ten thousand years ago, though, so who knows what really happened.

Thanks to this renewed frenzy, many monster races we used to be able to converse with were driven mad.

We’re about three weeks into our journey, so we should be getting close to Rauterdale now. Thankfully, we’ve only been attacked by monster packs three times so far. But I can’t shake this ominous feeling I’ve been having since we entered this damn forest. Is it the fact that I can only peer a few feet into the forest?

I lean forward in my carriage, looking down at the wooden ground below. My long, curly blond hair falls down both sides of my face. I lift my hand and look at my palm, eyeing the scar cutting from the center of my palm down to my wrist, and thinking about the times I wanted to be an adventurer.

Father never did accept that, instead wanting me to take over the family business. Even then, he did his best to assist me. He managed to get his hands on what he thought was a B-rank skill. He paid an arm and a leg for it as well. When I used the skillbook, however, we found out he was scammed. I bring up my status board and eye it.

}~~~~~~{Status}~~~~~~{

[Name:] Alice Drakea

[Race:] Human (1x - Stat Gain | 1x - XP required per level)

[Tag:] Mortal

[Class: D Magic Rogue]

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[Titles:]

[D Daughter of a Merchant]

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[Level: 9]

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[Stats:]

[STR: 170]

[DEF: 160]

[DEX: 380]

[INT: 400]

[WIS: 290]

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[Skills:]

[Active Skills: D Magic Thread / D Summon Dagger / E Knife Throw]

[Passive Skills: U Master Haggler / D Self-Healing / (TABOO) Eldritch Aspect: Palm Tentacle]

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[Equipment:]

[ F | Haggler’s Garb (Set)]

[ C | Amulet of Protection]

[ D | Bracelet of Neutralizing]

}~~~~~{Status End}~~~~~{

That damn taboo. We’re extremely lucky that it doesn’t have any magical signatures. Anybody with a taboo is likely to be taken by the Leandite Church. The only sign of it is this thin scar that could be mistaken for any normal scar. It doesn’t even give me any benefits, either. Some days I wish I were a demon. At least then I’d be able to make use of the damn skill.

*BOOM!*

I’m suddenly rocked by an explosion at the front of the carriage. Splinters fly towards me, piercing my skin and cutting me up. Anya, the maid sitting across from me, lands on my lap with a large piece of wood sticking out from the back of her head. Soon, bright blue lights begin to leave her body and exit out of the carriage.

My ears ring, and I find it hard to comprehend just what’s happening. Warm blood begins to flow down my head, causing me to close my left eye. I scramble to push Anya’s body off of me, sending it crumpling onto the floor unceremoniously. I stumble slightly as vertigo begins to set in, making me feel nauseous and dizzy.

I peer out of the hole in the carriage and see smoke rising from where the horses once stood, their bodies eviscerated and burned. Several of the adventurers I’d hired to guard me now lie dead. Poorly made spears and throwing axes are embedded into their bodies.

As I start to come back to my senses, I see a ball of orange flame shoot across, striking the elven rogue in the party directly in the chest, causing him to be blown to pieces. I look to the right, where the fireball came from, and see a massive monster wielding a gnarled staff. Its fur is grey and sickly. Dark brown spots line it like a leopard’s pelt. Its back is hunched, with powerful muscles hidden beneath the patchy fur. Claws three inches long grow from its hands, like scythes. Its eyes glow red with frenzy. It’s a gnoll warlock. A C-rank monster. The adventurers I hired most definitely can’t kill this thing. Especially when its got itself surrounded by a half dozen D-rank gnoll grunts.

Even still, the brave men and women of the party fight. The dwarf crushes the skulls of E-rank gnoll slaves left and right, while the human archer manages to take down one of the grunts with a well-aimed shot to the head.

For the slightest second, I had a bit of hope that we may just be able to pull through this. Then, the warlock starts casting again. A small magic circle glows brightly on its palm, illuminating its surroundings with a deep crimson light. It’s using a taboo skill.

The light leaves from its hand, turning into a glowing orb that hovers fifteen feet off the ground. It then splits off and slams into the bodies surrounding the carriage. The bodies glow, similarly to when their souls leave, just in a much more sinister manner. Time seems to stop as the corpse of one of the adventurers caught in the initial blast begins to twitch. His eyes open, revealing them to be the same crimson glow of the gnolls.

One of the adventurers is stabbed through from behind by one of the corpses, while another finds an axe cleaving through his face. All that’s left is a party of three. An elf archer, a dwarven warrior, and an elf warrior. The three of them are surrounded by corpses and gnoll slaves. It all seems hopeless.

“GROOOOOOOAGH!”

Until a horrible screech echoes across the battlefield. I look back to the gnoll warlock to find its fur singed by a deep, crimson flame, and its head pierced through by a rather plain looking spear. Its body glows with a blue light, signifying its death. The gnoll grunts beside it look over in fear before their eyes start to turn purple. Purple goo begins to flow from their mouths, causing them to choke and vomit. The gnoll slaves take this opportunity and run off into the forest as the reanimated corpses collapse to the ground. 

The grunts collapse to the ground seconds later, with bright blue lights leaving their bodies.

Walking from the forest line, I see two girls. They appear to be around my age, so about nineteen. They wear pink and blue frilly dresses that come down to their thighs. Their faces are completely flawless, and nearly seem to glow with beauty.

One of them, the one wearing the pink dress, looks towards me. Her ruby red eyes trail up and down my body, undressing me in the same manner those old men did at my coming of age ceremony. Difference being… I don’t actually hate it this time…