Authors Note:

There will be no updates during the Christmas and New Year holiday period. Manifest Fantasy will return on January 9, 2024.

READ AHEAD: Chapter 7 is now available for Tier 2 Manifest Fantasy Patrons and higher!

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Discord: https://discord.gg/wr2xexGJaD 

  – –

Alpha Team stood in a loose semicircle around Taldren, gazes drawn to the blend of traditional and innovative elements before them. The range stretched outside of the building and into the woods, with stationary wooden targets interspersed with obstacles that mimicked diverse battle conditions.

 

Taldren began, “The first phase of this test’ll judge your accuracy against stationary targets. You’ll be judged not merely on striking true, but on your precision as well. A strike in the center scores highest, with lesser points for outer rings or inconsistency.”

 

He then pointed toward another adventurer who stood off to the left side of the range. “The second phase demands adaptability and quick reflexes. The other examiner over there’ll be launching discs into the air. You’ll be facing moving targets, a true test of an archer’s skill.”

 

Finally, Taldren gestured toward the end of the range where a mage stood ready. “And in the third phase, you shall face a stress test scenario. Our mage’ll summon golems, which shall serve as your targets. They’ll fight back, offering a taste of a true skirmish. You’ll be granted a magic shield – if it breaks, the test is over.”

 

“Your unique weapons will make for an interesting performance, no doubt,” he added, facing Alpha Team. He consulted his notepad then looked up again. “Henry Donnager, step forth and begin. Let us see how these contraptions fare in this trial.”

 

As his name echoed in the air, Henry walked forward, rifle in hand. The crisp air of the morning sharpened his focus as he approached the firing line, which was cordoned off by a wooden barrier. Taking his position, he shouldered his rifle and surveyed the range. He counted over a dozen wooden targets, all set up at various ranges. The first three were positioned side by side, a mere ten meters from his current position. Singular targets were set up in ten-meter intervals up until 50 meters. Then, the targets became spread out even more, with another group of three appearing at 100 meters and a final group at about 200 meters. The ranges appeared ridiculous in the context of historically effective ranges for bows, but it cemented just how different this world was. Henry recalled the arrow that hit Kelmithus’ window during the ambush, its force rivaling modern ballistics. Magic was certainly potent. Yet, it lacked the finesse of modern technology.

Henry peered through his scope, aligning his sights with the first target. The rifle’s crack shattered the morning calm, a sound starkly different from the twangs of traditional bows. Despite the attached suppressor, the sound was still loud and startled the other adventurers into retreating steps. The first target’s bullseye splintered under the impact – a perfect hit. Within a second, the other two were hit, scoring perfectly. The sounds of suppressed gunfire drew the attention of nearby adventurers, murmurs of intrigue rippling amongst the blossoming crowd.

 

Moving to the 20 and 30-meter targets, he maintained his rhythm. His finger pulled the trigger twice more. Each shot hit its mark, the speed of his performance garnering more attention from the onlookers. At the 100-meter mark, he briefly paused, adjusting his variable zoom scope and zeroing his weapon accordingly. His shots landed in the center of each target, the precision undiminished by the increased range.

 

Finally, the 200-meter targets presented themselves. Henry made a minor adjustment, aligning for the extended range. He exhaled slowly, taking a bit more time to line up his shots. The distance, likely challenging even for Taldren, was comfortably within the M7’s effective range. The bullets found their targets with unerring accuracy, leaving no doubt about the engineering of the rifle or Henry’s marksmanship.

 

As the last target was hit, a wave of applause swept through the gathered crowd. Henry lowered his rifle. It was a piece of cake – easier than his training back home. The impressed audience was an ego boost, certainly, but his eyes sought Taldren, whose unimpressed demeanor was puzzling. Was he just good at hiding his shock, or were the higher Tiers capable of so much more?

 

“Well done,” Taldren said. “Your performance is among the best I’ve seen – worthy of the upper Tiers. Let us see if you are able to maintain it.”

 

Moving to the second phase, Henry watched as the other examiner prepared for the test. The moving targets consisted of large wooden discs thrown anywhere from 30 to 60 meters from the firing line, which the examiner himself flung into the air by magically-enhanced throws. The discs reminded him of clay pigeons used in skeet shooting but their trajectories were devoid of the predictability associated with machinery.

 

The examiner launching them varied almost every aspect of each launch, differing in speed and even incorporating curves and wind magic. It wasn’t too difficult, but still nothing to scoff at. As Henry fired his rifle, the wooden discs shattered mid-air, fragments tumbling to the ground. Gasps and impressed chatter coincided with the sounds of shots, but Henry ignored them as he continued with the test. After a few more minutes, the examiner signaled the conclusion of the test. He missed a couple shots adjusting to the introduction of wind magic, but still managed to hit every single target. 

 

Taldren, observing Henry’s performance in the second phase, couldn’t hide a flicker of respect. “Impressive,” he conceded, motioning Henry towards the final challenge. “But now, let us see how you fare against adversaries that fight back. Prepare yourself.”

 

As Henry entered the range, an examiner cast a spell. A blue circle coalesced beneath him, swirling and encasing him in a shimmering, almost transparent bubble of energy. He tested its range of motion, finding it moved fluidly with him. He looked back to his team; they were already taking notes on this valuable intel, prepared to compile data on magic shields. 

 

Across the range, the mage’s chant echoed as magic circles appeared around piles of rocks and earth. The ground shivered, and from it, three golems of stone and earth rose, their cores glowing like molten heartbeats with their rocky chests.

 

Henry eyed the Earth Golems, recalling the briefings on Gaerran entities. Their cores were their lifelines. He moved cautiously, maintaining distance, eyes darting between the towering figures and the mage controlling them. The golems, sensing their target, coordinated their approach, arms raised to shield their glowing centers.

 

Henry fired his rifle at the lead golem, bullets chipping away at the stone but unable to penetrate the arm’s density. It was like firing a bullet into a HESCO block – there was no reaching the other side. He didn’t like it, but without heavy weapons, his only opportunity was to wait until the golems attacked.

 

The first golem lunged, a fist of stone aimed at Henry. He sidestepped, the shield humming as it absorbed shards of rock and dirt from the golem’s missed strike. With the golem’s left arm in the ground and right arm preparing for another strike, he saw his window of opportunity. He aimed for the exposed core, firing a short burst. The bullets pierced the rocky, loosely compacted exterior, traveling deep enough to shatter the core.

 

Ensuring he wouldn’t be cornered, he maneuvered around uprooted trees and boulders to maximize his range of movement and minimize the angles of attack for the remaining golems. While gathering data on hits would certainly be useful, he avoided them, aware of the shield’s untested durability and the value of the test. 

 

The second golem, learning from its fallen counterpart, advanced with more caution. It shielded its core with its arms as it walked forward, opting to use its legs to attack him. Its stomps were easy to dodge, but finding an opening was difficult. Henry circled around behind a tree, feigning a flank and causing the golem to shift its guard. He dashed back toward the side he came, figuratively breaking the golem’s ankles. In that brief moment, he found his mark, firing a shot that caused a crack to form, dimming the core’s light.

 

The third golem presented a more formidable challenge. It moved unpredictably, adapting to Henry’s tactics. It swung its massive arms, each miss causing the ground to tremble, but carefully kept one arm constantly defending its core. Henry kept moving, using debris as cover and firing shots to test the golem’s defenses. 

 

He noticed a pattern in the golem’s movement, a slight delay in its reaction. Capitalizing on this, he reloaded his weapon and drew the creature toward a large boulder. As the golem swung, he dodged. His shield flickered as it absorbed fragments that flung off the boulder. The impact exposed its core for a split second, visible from under its legs. Henry didn’t hesitate; a final burst rang out and struck its core. The golem crumbled, its form collapsing into a mound of earth and stone.

 

As the last remnants of dust settled, the range fell into an impressed silence, then erupted in applause. Taldren, watching the entire spectacle, gave a nod. “Your performance…” He paused, searching for the right words, “is noteworthy.”

 

Henry stepped aside, thanking the proctor and joining the onlookers. Ron was up next. He breezed past the first two phases just as he had. As the golems emerged, Ron moved with an almost playful agility, dodging and weaving, firing at critical moments as if the golems were nothing more than scripted AI with defined attack patterns. Were they? Henry typed up some notes on his tablet, wondering how well gaming experiences and fantasy media back home could be applied to this new reality.

 

Isaac’s performance was similar to Ron’s, but emphasized timing and calculated strikes rather than the game-like flair of the previous trial.  Ryan on the other hand was a contrast to the two; he was methodical and uncannily precise. Out of everyone, he managed to sustain the least damage to his shield. His skill was not just on par with Henry’s; it exceeded it in certain aspect, particularly in speed and accuracy.

 

Dr. Anderson, the academic of the group, surprised many. Despite his scholarly background, his shots were consistently accurate. His handling of the rifle, while not as fluid as the others, was effective, dismantling the targets with longer bursts. If he had to guess, Anderson probably spent some time in the military before going back to school to obtain his degree.

 

Henry observed the reactions of the adventurers and Taldren as his teammates took the test. Their expressions had shifted from skepticism to respect, some even displaying open admiration, characterized by cheers and applause. 

 

As the last of his teammates completed their test, Taldren stepped forward, his expression a mix of respect and professional scrutiny. “Stand firm, warriors,” he announced. “Your weapons, strange as they may be, have demonstrated a power beyond ordinary. Your skill in harnessing them, it’s clear, not just in marksmanship but in adapting to challenges unknown. This bodes well for your journey as adventurers.”

 

He looked over the team, eyeing the rifles. “These arms… they break the mold of our traditions. Firearms of such… efficiency and lethality are unknown in our lands, surpassing even the famed works of the dwarven forges.”

 

He paused. “I must confess, the arrival of such technology stirs both curiosity and a degree of apprehension. In the hands as skilled as yours, they could reshape the very nature of adventuring.” His stance was confident, but Henry could see the minor cracks – an unspoken acknowledgement of the potential challenge these weapons posed, even to someone of his stature. “As a Tier 9 adventurer, I have seen and mastered many arts, but this,” he gestured towards the rifles, “this is a new frontier. The Guild values privacy and innovation, so we do not pry into the origins of your arms. But be wary – others may not share our restraint or values.”

 

Henry nodded. He didn’t need to have Dr. Anderson’s knowledge to know how this would play out. Magic and the dynamics of this world were still a mystery, but a leap like this could disrupt existing geopolitics and invite curiosity, fear, or even hostility. If the captured intruder was anything to go by, the Nobians were already a mix of all three.

 

Taldren looked over the strangely dressed foreigners. “Your performance today was not just a test of skill but a demonstration of change. We will be watching your journey with great interest. For now, head to the tavern, gather your thoughts, and await your rankings. This day marks the beginning of a new chapter for you… and perhaps for all of us.”

 

With that, Taldren stepped back and began the next round of tests with the other adventurers. As Henry walked toward the exit, he peeked at the section for magic swordsmen.

 

“Looking for your girlfriend?” Ron teased.

 

“My girlfriend?” He echoed, a bit puzzled at first. Then, realization dawned, and he broke out into a smile. “Ohhh, Sera? Bruh, I guess I am.”

 

Ron laughed, nudging Henry’s shoulder. “Bro, sounds like you’re down bad. But hey, can’t blame you. She’s bad as fuck and a badass with that sword.”

 

“Bro I am not down bad,” Henry shot back.

 

Ron merely had to raise an eyebrow for Henry to recall his statement. “Alright, maybe a bit,” he admitted.

 

Dr. Anderson walked alongside them, taking interest in their banter. “I never took you for the type to get distracted so easily, Captain,” he commented, a hint of amusement in his tone.

 

Henry gave him a wry smile. “Eh, not really a distraction, Doc. More like… appreciating local talents.”

 

Ron turned to Dr. Anderson, his curiosity piqued. “Speaking of talents, where’d you learn all that, Doc?”

 

Dr. Anderson chuckled softly. “Ah, well, I actually went back to school after completing my contract. Used to run ops with JSOC. Got into archaeology in Egypt, unsurprisingly.”

 

Behind them, Ryan’s gruff voice cut through their laughter. “Magic bullshit tossing SOP out the fuckin’ window,” he muttered, shaking his head. “If it were up to me, I’d’ve called in an airstrike instead of dancing around with peashooters.”

 

Ron glanced back, a smirk on his face. “Not much for the fantasy setting, eh, Hayes?”

 

Ryan snorted. “I reckon that was more of a circus show than any real test. Ain’t nothin’ in the rule book ‘bout fightin’ rock monsters.”

 

Isaac chuckled, pointing out the irony of Ryan’s statements. “Come on, dude, where’s your sense of adventure? Remember that last DnD campaign? You were like,” Isaac paused, building up his mock Southern accent, “I don’t care how small the room is, I said cast fireball!”

 

Ryan rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress a smirk. “DnD’s one thing, man. Real life’s supposed to make a bit more sense. Though, I gotta admit, throwin’ fireballs was a damn good time.”

 

Isaac nudged him. “See, You’re a natural sorcerer at heart. Not gonna lie, it was pretty crazy to hear all that ‘magic bullshit’ coming from a guy with an ice shards meta build.”

 

“Yeah, well, a guy’s gotta have some hobbies,” Ryan conceded, his tone lightening. “Doesn’t mean I wanna live it out for real.”

 

They finally reached the large doorway, emerging into the lobby from behind the front counter. The clerk from earlier turned around at the sound of their conversation, her eyes lighting up with recognition. “Ah, Alpha Team!” she exclaimed. “Word of yer feats has already reached many ears. A hearty congratulations on yer stellar performance in the trials!”

 

She leaned forward, expression blending enthusiasm and respect. “Ye’ve shown yerselves to be quite the formidable group. The Guild’s been all abuzz since ye stepped into the testing grounds. It’s not every day we see such… innovative approaches. But then again, I’d expect nothing less from companions of the Arcane Scholar himself.”

 

“The Arcane Scholar, huh?” Henry noticed.

 

“Oh, there are many tales of his feats, but ye’d best ask him yerself about the origins of his title,” the clerk said. With a warm smile, she then gestured toward the tavern nestled into the corner of the lobby. “Now, I suppose ye’d be wanting some well-deserved rest. Head over to the tavern, rest yer feet, and enjoy a bit of hospitality. I’ll call ye when yer results are ready. Best of luck, and once more, welcome to the Adventurers Guild!”

 

“We’ll check out the tavern, thanks,” Henry returned the clerk’s smile.

 

The tavern, seamlessly integrated into the lobby, reminded him of a Starbucks nestled inside a Barnes and Noble, though the atmosphere and scope here was unmistakably Gaerran. Wooden beams crisscrossed the ceiling, and the walls were adorned with various paintings, quest postings, and fantastical artpieces.

 

Many tables were occupied by adventurers, their attire ranging from basic garb – tunics, leather breeches, and chainmail vests – to more exotic outfits featuring vibrant cloaks, intricately embroidered robes, and armor pieces glowing with subtle enchantments. Some were animatedly recounting tales of their recent quests, while others huddled over maps and scrolls, planning their next adventures. The energy was contagious, and even the more reserved members of Alpha Team seemed to absorb some of the excitement.

 

As the team found a table near a large hearth, the warmth of the fire added to the inviting atmosphere. Henry couldn’t help but observe the diverse group of patrons. A lot of the parties featured at least one non-human member – dwarves, elves, and the myriad of therianthropes. 

 

Ron whistled as he looked around, a huge grin plastered on his face. “Man, I really can’t get enough of this place.”

 

As they settled in, a server approached. “Welcome to the Guild Tavern,” she said cheerfully. “Can I get you anything? Our special today is a roasted griffin wing, served with a side of shrimp mushrooms and honey-glazed root vegetables. It’s a favorite among the adventurers here in Eldralore.”

 

Henry raised an eyebrow. “Griffin wing, huh?” He shared a look with Ron and the others, who gave approving nods. “Sounds adventurous. We’ll take five specials and what, water?”

 

Dr. Anderson agreed with water. Ron and Isaac decided to try out some sort of berry juice, while Ryan took an interest in ale. Henry gathered their orders, relaying them to the server.

 

“Good choices, gentlemen! I’ll get your drinks first. The order’ll be ready in about fifteen minutes.”

 

As the server left, they caught snippets of nearby conversations. A party at a nearby table shared a tale of a close call with a goblin horde, only for a helmeted adventurer to interject and explain why goblins are worthy of extermination. Another table was engaged in a heated debate about the best strategies for tackling a dragon’s lair. 

 

Dr. Anderson commented on their surroundings, fascinated by the array of races and stories around them. “The diversity here is astounding,” he remarked. “Shame the world won’t know anytime soon.”

 

“Lucky us,” Henry said, raising his glass of juice. “To the formation of Alpha Team and our future adventures.”

 

“Hear, hear,” Ron echoed enthusiastically, clinking his glass against the others.

 

Just as they set their glasses back on the table, their server approached with a cart of steaming food. The aroma of the roasted griffin wing and the accompanying sides filled the air, drawing their attention to the hearty meal set before them. Though not on the same level as the fancy cuisine served by Rolan and the mansion staff, the griffin wing was still an impressive sight in its own right, its golden-brown skin glistening under the tavern lights. 

 

Henry dug in. The rich, savory flavors were a pleasant surprise. After a couple bites, a party of adventurers approached their table. The leader, a tall woman with a longsword strapped to her back, gave them a friendly nod. “Good morrow. I am Elara of the Mithril Order, Tier 8. Your prowess in the trials has caught our eyes. The manner in which you wield those novel armaments, it speaks of a disciplined military heritage. Rarely do we witness such a fusion of strategy and skill in these halls.”

 

Henry, pausing mid-bite, replied, “Mithril Order? That’s a pretty cool party name.”

 

“Clan, actually. The Mithril Order stands distinguished for its strategic mastery and martial discipline. Aligning with our clan opens doors to resources and ventures far surpassing what solitary parties or the common Guild provisions may yield.”

 

One of Elara’s companions, a burly man with a scar across his cheek, added, “Our resources are gathered into the clan’s coffers, providing us with superior gear, privileged information, and access to grand Campaigns. These are not mere quests, but ventures that can shift the very tides of an entire region.”

Dr. Anderson asked, “And what would be expected of us if we were to join your clan?”

 

“Should you join our ranks, your talents would bolster the clan’s endeavors. In exchange, you’d gain unfettered access to our collective bounty and armaments, and partake in campaigns with us. It is a partnership where your distinct skills would flourish amidst grander pursuits.”

 

Henry looked at Ron, as if discerning his opinion before turning back to Elara. “Sounds promising, but what’s the catch?”

 

Elara tilted her head, gauging their interest. “The only requisite, should you be inclined, is a steadfast commitment. You will be expected to participate in Campaigns and contribute a small fee – 5 percent – from each quest's earnings.”

Before they could delve deeper, the clerk appeared beside their table. “Yer test results are ready,” she announced cheerfully. “I must say, there’s quite a buzz about yer scores. Once yer done here, please come up to the counter and I can tell ye about what to do next.”

 

Elara nodded glanced at the clerk then back at Alpha Team. “I won’t intrude any longer. I’ll let you think about our offer. Should the Mithril Order intrigue you, inquire at the counter. A cadre of your distinction would be a valued addition to our ranks.”

 

Henry finished up the honey-glazed vegetables on his plate, mulling over the lady’s offer. Aligning with a clan like the Mithril Order could open new doors for them, a fact that he knew would pique General Harding’s interest. But for now, his focus was on the test results.

 

He downed the last of his griffin wing, fishing out a pair of silvery coins and setting aside a few bronze ones as a tip. With their meal finished, they stood up from the table and headed back toward the counter. Henry noticed the clerk holding a parchment.

 

“Yer performance in the tests was quite remarkable,” she began, “particularly in the ranged section. Ye folks scored so well, in fact, that we’d like to offer ye a placement evaluation for Tier 6! As ye know, Tier 5 is the highest a new adventurer can attain, but given yer skill and the Arcane Scholar’s recommendation, we’ll make an exception here.”

 

The team gathered around the parchment, scanning their scores. They had a few mistakes on the written exam, with Dr. Anderson completely acing it. The physical test was where they all shone; their proficiency with firearms secured scores that were impossible with bows. 

 

“Now,” the clerk continued, “yer Party Evaluation test will be a Tier 6 quest: investigate a Minotaur Warrior sighting near the forest and eliminate it.”

 

Henry nodded, recalling the file on minotaurs. They were basically the same creature from Greek lore, though they made liberal use of Gaerra’s Aether to enhance themselves in terms of speed and strength. “We’ll start preparing right away. Any specifics we should know about?”

 

“Just that it’s more than a simple beast hunt,” she cautioned. “These minotaurs are cunning, and there have been reports of increased aggression. Latest sighting is near the bend in the river here,” she said, pointing to a rough map. “Guildmaster Taldren himself says yer probably close to Tier 7 or 8, so this quest should be no problem. Best of luck to ye!”

 

Considering the information provided by the clerk, the team gathered in a quiet corner of the Guild’s lobby, away from the hustle and bustle, to strategize.

 

Henry placed on a table and pulled up their own map, which depicted the region in greater clarity – topographical and otherwise. He placed his finger on the screen, scrolling to the aforementioned bend in the river before double-tapping to place a marker. “Minotaur Warrior, huh? That’s a Tier 6 monster; cunning, as the clerk said, but susceptible to ‘Wind Snipe’ and other ranged or magic attacks.”

 

Isaac leaned over the screen, his finger tracing the river. “Assuming the river is its water source, the lair should be somewhere nearby.” He placed a marker at a point about 300 meters equidistant from the last known sighting near the river and a nearby cave. “It’s probably hiding out in this cave here, so we can drive to the middle and post up, conduct some drone recon. If it ain’t there, we can wait for it to hit the water source again. We find its lair, then Hayes can take a shot.”

 

Ryan nodded, scanning the terrain around the river bend. “I can set up once we identify the target. ‘Wind Snipe’ ain’t gonna be shit compared to my 107.”

 

“We’ll keep the AT-4 ready as well, in case we encounter something bigger or more armored. Owens, you’ll take the launcher. I’ll hold the M250. Yen, you’ll take the MRAD. The Doc will maintain drone surveillance and act as your spotter.”

 

Wrapping up their strategy, they left the Guild and hopped back inside the MRAP. Ron took the driver’s seat, maneuvering the vehicle through the terrain that led to the forest. The rest of the team settled in, double-checking their gear as the MRAP rumbled along the path. Finally, they arrived at Isaac’s marker, a small cliff overlooking the river.

 

“This is close enough,” Henry said. “We go on foot from here. Let’s get that drone up.”

 

Ron launched the quadcopter drone, and its cameras started feeding live images to their handheld screens. The dense canopy of the forest made it difficult to see everything clearly, but the thermal imaging soon revealed a large heat signature walking near a rock formation. Flipping back to standard visuals, they confirmed the identity of the creature – it was the minotaur, wielding a large club.

 

Ron handed his tablet to Dr. Anderson, who continued to monitor the screen as they moved around to get a better angle on the creature below. Approaching the suspected lair, they saw no immediate sign of the minotaur, which had disappeared into the nearby cave. The drone’s camera panned around, searching for any movement. 

 

“Wait,” Dr. Anderson whispered, pointing to the screen. The minotaur emerged from the cave, followed by another similarly-sized one and a larger beast that looked markedly more menacing than its kin. “Two Warriors and a Chieftain. Warriors are armed with a club and longsword, the Chieftain’s armed with a large battle axe.”

 

“I thought this was a Tier 6 quest?” Isaac wondered.

 

“Guess they weren’t able to confirm it too well,” Henry shrugged, assessing the situation. “Alright, slight change of plans. Let’s tighten our perimeter and prepare for an engagement with multiple targets. Hayes? Yen?”

 

“In position,” he replied, uncapping the scope and setting down the bipod on his Barrett M107A1. The crosshairs of his scope settled on one of the smaller minotaurs, visible through a break in the foliage. “Ready on your signal.”

Isaac, with a Barret MRAD, confirmed his readiness. “In position. Have visual on targets.”

 

Henry crouched near the treeline with Ron, eyeing the group of monsters through the scope of his M250 as he posted up on a rock. The Minotaur Chieftain had shifted position, hanging back near the cave. “Ready for initiation. Hayes, take the Warrior on the left. On my command… Three. Two. One. Execute.”

 

The forest, momentarily still, was suddenly split by the synchronized fire of two high-caliber sniper rifles. Ryan’s shot found its mark on the first Minotaur Warrior, dropping it instantly with a center mass hit. Simultaneously, the second Warrior to the right of the cave entrance was struck with equal precision and lethality despite the smaller round.

 

“Target down,” Ryan confirmed calmly, quickly shifting his aim back toward the cave to prepare for the Chieftain.

 

“Second target neutralized,” Isaac reported.

 

“Excellent shots,” Henry acknowledged, maintaining his position. “Now for the Chieftain. Doc, any alternative exits from that lair?”

 

Dr. Anderson analyzed the drone feed. “No secondary exits visible,” he replied. “The back passage is too narrow for something that size. It’s effectively a single point of entry and exit.”

 

Henry processed this. “If he’s as smart as they say, he might be playing a waiting game.” He turned to Ron. “Yo, let’s nudge him out. Prep the smokes.”

 

Ron nodded, retrieving the grenades from his pack. “Deploying smokes to obscure his vision and force a move. Of course I’m the lucky guy who gets to throw them.” He moved stealthily forward, just close enough to toss the grenades effectively towards the cave entrance.

Henry chuckled. “Of course, dude. Up until last week, I didn’t know jack shit about minotaurs, O Man of Culture.”

“Touche,” Ron replied as he prepared a couple of grenades and threw them. They clattered faintly against the rocky ground then began to hiss, spewing out billowing clouds of smoke. “Shit, shit, shit.” Ron swiftly retreated back to a safer distance, breathing a sigh of relief as he rejoined Henry and postured defensively with his AT4.

 

“Eyes sharp for any movement,” Henry instructed.

 

As the thick smoke began to envelop the cave entrance, Henry watched intently, the M250 mounted on a log. He felt a familiar tension grip him, waiting for the Chieftain’s emergence. His grip on his weapon was firm, the slight dampness of his palms a reminder of the looming confrontation. Ron, beside him, adjusted his grip on the launcher, his focus evident in the way he steadied it.

 

Then, he saw the smoke shift. Henry could see the Minotaur Chieftain’s immense form looming within the smoke. The beast’s size was formidable, muscles rippling under its thick hide as it waved away the wispy tendrils and scanned its surroundings. Its snarl was guttural, resonating through the forest with a deep bass that reminded Henry of the feeling of a heavy bassline in a song, the kind that breaks the subwoofers in a car and sends vibrations through his chest. Its eyes, just visible through the haze, glowed yellowish and glinted with a feral intelligence. The Chieftain’s gaze locked on to Henry’s position, sensing them through the foliage. When it charged, it was with the force of a freight train – hooves pounding the earth, kicking up debris.

 

“ENGAGE!” Henry yelled.

 

Ryan and Isaac’s shots rang out, striking the charging monster in the chest. The bullets hit with enough force to stagger the beast, but its massive build absorbed the impact with terrifying resilience. Henry held down the trigger on his LMG, rounds thudding into the Minotaur’s thick hide and embedding into it but doing little to slow down its momentum. 

 

Ron fired the AT4, the launcher nudging slightly as he absorbed the force. The rocket-propelled grenade streaked toward the Chieftain and detonated with a deafening blast. The explosion was intense, the shockwave rippling through the air. The Chieftain, struck directly, was thrown off its feet by the sheer force of the blast.

 

“Hold fire!” Henry declared, ready to inspect the effects of their weaponry.

 

The smoke began to clear, lending visibility to the downed form of the fallen Chieftain. The AT4 had inflicted a devastating wound; the impact site was a mangled mess of torn flesh and shattered bone, far more severe than any injury a creature of its size should reasonably withstand. The brutal effectiveness of the weapon was unmistakable, leaving no doubt about the outcome.

Despite the apparent lethality of the strike and the few moments motionlessness from the figure ahead, Henry knew better than to take chances. “Ryan, ensure the kill,” he ordered.

 

Another crack shattered the forest silence. The bullet struck the Minotaur’s head, ensuring that the beast would not rise again.

 

“Confirmed,” Ryan reported. “Damned thing ain’t getting up from that.”

 

With the confirmation, Henry and Ron continued their approach, their weapons still at the ready. The air was heavy with the smell of charred dirt and flesh. They reached the Chieftain, its massive frame now lifeless and inert. The explosive round had not merely wounded the creature; it had obliterated a significant portion of its torso. At face value it looked like overkill, but the fact that anti-material rifles and LMGs had little effect on the beast was harrowing – they needed a weapon meant to take down armored vehicles just to kill one Minotaur Chieftain.

 

After the reality of their encounter settled in, Henry directed the team to secure the Minotaurs’ weapons first. The club and longsword wielded by the Minotaur Warriors were worn, likely appropriated from human combatants in battles long past. The Chieftain’s large battle axe, on the other hand, was in remarkable condition. He frowned at the implications, paying his respects.

 

After Ron moved the MRAP closer, Henry deposited the heavy axe inside. “Let’s see what else we can find in their lair,” he suggested. “There could be useful loot or equipment.”

 

“And you say you don’t like fantasy,” Ron quipped. 

 

Henry brushed him off with a smirk. “Alright, maybe it’s growing on me,” he admitted as they entered the lair. The lair was rather small for a dwelling of three minotaurs – about the size of a studio apartment.

 

“Clear,” Ryan said.

 

Henry nodded, beginning to look around. Inside, they found an assortment of items – a mix of weaponry, armor pieces, and various trinkets. Some looked valuable, likely taken from unfortunate adventurers or travelers.

 

While Ron and Isaac gathered the loot, Dr. Anderson and Henry examined the Minotaur bodies. “We should take samples,” Anderson proposed. “Their hide, horns, maybe even teeth could be valuable for crafting or research.”

 

Ryan, already at work with a knife, replied without looking up. “Ain’t nothin’ new for me. Been huntin’ since I was old enough to hold a rifle. This is just a bigger game; same drill, just with a whole lot more… Minotaur.”

 

As he deftly began to collect materials, his efficiency in the task was evident. The others joined in after securing anything useful from the lair. The hide was tough and thick, likely making for excellent armor material, while the horns and teeth had a certain quality that suggested a hardness unattainable in Earthly nature.

 

“Never thought I’d be cutting up Minotaurs for science,” Ron muttered, half in awe, half in excited disbelief, as he helped gather the materials.

 

Once they finished, they packed the items into the MRAP or fastened them to the roof, ensuring everything was secure for transport. The return journey to the Guild was quiet, an occasional discussion popping up as Dr. Anderson worked on their mission report – both for the Guild and for General Harding. When they arrived back at the Guild, the team unloaded some of their cargo. The Minotaur heads, extra equipment pieces, and trinkets from their lair were presented to the Guild officials, who seemed taken aback by the sheer volume and nature of what Alpha Team had brought back.

 

The clerk, who had initially briefed them on the quest, looked on in amazement as the items were laid out before her. “Please wait here a bit while I go fetch the Guildmaster.”

 

The clerk quickly summoned Taldren. As he arrived, his eyes widened slightly at the sight of the Minotaur remains and other artifacts. “Impressive,” he muttered, examining the items closely. His eyes fell on the trinkets that Alpha Team brought back. “You did good work in bringing these back. These will provide closure for many.”

 

Henry gave a respectful nod. 

 

Taldren shifted, “It was not our intention for your party to encounter such a challenge for this quest, but your undertaking has surpassed our expectations. Recount your tale, tell us what happened.”

Dr. Anderson read through the detailed report he made, which Taldren accepted with a nod. “Truly impressive. Your tactics, the efficiency of your engagement… it speaks of a mastery not often witnessed here.”

He continued, “Your prowess and aptitude, they eclipse what we typically observe from novices, transcending even those of higher standing. To face not one, but a trio of Minotaurs, including their Chieftain, and to prevail with such strategies… it is indeed a feat of great note.” He paused, taking a breath. “In light of your extraordinary performance and the outcomes of this quest, a unanimous accord has been reached.”

 

He pulled 5 cards from his pocket, handing them to Henry and the others. “These will serve as your temporary Adventurer Cards until we are able to process your registration. Congratulations, Alpha Team. You stand now as Tier 6 Adventurers.”