A couple of months before Roxy's arrival.
It was a small village located not far from the very heart of the Kingdom of Asura.
Life here flowed quietly, even lazily. Being close to the central lands meant safety: monsters were rare, and rumors of raids came only as distant tales.
Asura had always seemed strangely dual.
In the center—order.
But the farther north you went, the worse it became: there lay the borderlands with the northern kingdoms, from where news of raids and missing caravans often came.
To the east lay the Boreas region, the lands of the Guardians of the Wilds, from where monster migrations or the next bandit groups often emerged, considering it normal to rob and burn a couple of villages.
But this story wasn't about them.
A girl was walking along a narrow path with a jug of fresh milk. She was going from one village to the neighboring one, barely paying attention to the road. The day was quiet, and she simply walked forward, watching as the road beyond the trees already came into view.
"Kh-sh-sh..."
She caught the sound with the edge of her ear and instinctively turned her head toward it. The next second her eyes widened, and her heart started pounding faster.
A creature a little over a meter tall stood in the grass.
Its body was covered in coarse black fur, its mouth filled with small fangs, and its hands ended in long claws. Its red eyes glinted with anger or hunger—she couldn't tell.
Their gazes met for a brief moment.
A second.
The girl bolted. The jug flew out of her hands and fell into the grass, spilling milk. She ran toward the road and screamed as loudly as she could:
"Help! Monsters! Mons—"
She burst onto the main road, and in the distance she could already see the roofs of her village. But the distance was too great. She had neither the speed nor the strength to reach it.
And she wasn't given the chance.
Bang!
A small but sharp stone hit her directly in the head. Everything darkened sharply before her eyes. Her legs gave out, and she fell to the ground, rolling across the dry road and gathering a thick layer of dust on her clothes.
Jump. Thud!
Something heavy landed on top of her. The monster had leapt straight onto her back in one bound.
"Grrr..." came almost right into her ear.
Its clawed hands grabbed her shoulders and, despite its small size, easily turned her toward it. The girl's eyes focused, and she saw before her the most terrifying nightmare of her life.
"No!" she cried out, trying to fight back.
But she had no strength. Frozen in fear and shock, she stopped trying to do anything at all.
The monster's hands moved toward her and...
BANG!
At the last second the monster's head burst like a watermelon, splattering its contents all over the girl, who lay in shock, unable to react or even breathe. Her mouth hung open in an "O" as she lay on the ground, covered in blood, brains, and fur.
Clop-clop-clop. Clop-clop.
The girl turned toward the sound of hooves, and a well-groomed, richly saddled horse stopped before her.
On the saddle sat a short girl in a pointed mage's hat; light hair peeked from beneath it, and the staff on her back made her look like a wandering witch.
The horse snorted softly and stopped beside her.
"Oh my... You're completely smeared..." the stranger leaned forward, looking at the girl on the ground. "Sorry I killed it so awkwardly."
She smirked a little and nodded at the headless body.
"A Hollow Fiend. Nasty creatures. And if you let them grow for a couple of years, they get up to three meters tall. Brrr..."
The girl on the horse shivered, recalling something unpleasant connected to these beasts. She wrinkled her nose in disgust and looked away from the carcass.
The rescued girl was still lying on the ground with her mouth open, having even forgotten how to breathe.
Whether from shock or because her strength had finally left her, her gaze had gone glassy and full of disbelief. The girl on the horse looked to her like a real angel sent by the Creator at the very last moment.
"So… should I wash you?" the rider said, leaning forward a little. "I can make water… but as for clothes, sorry, I don't have anything in your size. Although…"
She glanced at her large travel bag, stuffed so tightly the clasps were barely holding.
She remembered that somewhere deep inside there was something that might fit, but now she hesitated—should she give it? Not because she was stingy—not at all. She simply knew: if she opened that bag, she wouldn't be able to close it again.
"Ah!" The girl seemed to wake from a dream. She jumped up abruptly, staggered, and immediately began bowing. "Thank you-thank you-tha— kh…"
Her voice broke on the last word.
Her eyes filled with tears, and they poured out so quickly she didn't even try to hold them back. All the tension, fear, and horror that had held her together burst out at once, and her words turned into incoherent sobs.
With a crooked, slightly guilty smile, the rider climbed down from the saddle.
She conjured a sphere of water in the air, letting it gently pour over the girl's hands and face, washing away blood, brains, and dirt. Then she helped tidy her hair as much as the situation allowed.
When the girl finally began to breathe steadily, the mage got to the main point:
"Listen, do you happen to know where the Boreas region is? I think I'm lost…"
The girl nodded immediately, so vigorously it looked like she might break her neck. She began explaining the directions in a confused rush, listing villages, turns, side roads, the main road, towns, and any landmark she could remember.
"Wow… I went completely the wrong way… Yeah…" the mage muttered when the girl finished listing everything she knew.
She lightly hopped back onto the horse, adjusted the reins, and turned the animal around.
"Well… take care of yourself," she said, tipping her hat slightly in a parting gesture.
She was just about to set off when a voice called from behind:
"Ah! But what about you… I forgot to ask!"
The rider glanced back over her shoulder.
"Roxy. Roxy of Sharia."
That was the last thing the girl heard as she watched the mage ride down the road. Then she shivered from a sudden chill, shook herself, and ran toward her village with all the strength she had left.
***
A few weeks later.
The tavern stood right at the crossroads of the main roads, and everyone loved it—merchants, adventurers, mercenaries, and simple travelers who just needed a place to pass the night.
Inside, the atmosphere was warm and lively.
Beer flowed without end, wooden mugs thudded against tables. Girls wove between them, serving stew, bread, roasted meat, and generously pouring ale. In the far corner, a fireplace crackled, casting light across the walls.
"Your beer..." a girl said, setting a tray down in front of several men.
She had already turned to walk away when—
Slap!
A sharp smack landed right on her backside.
"Ow!" she yelped, spinning around.
"That's your tip!" the man grinned, and his friends burst into crude laughter.
The girl frowned. Smack! She turned and gave the offender a loud slap across the face. That only made his group laugh even harder.
The laughter grew louder, rougher. The slapped man flushed, whether from shame or anger, and jumped to his feet, knocking over his mug. Beer spilled across the table and dripped onto the floor.
"What the hell do you think you're doing, huh?" he barked, stepping toward her.
She backed away, clutching the tray like a shield. A few patrons turned their heads, but no one interfered—scenes like this were common in such taverns.
"I w-warned... you..." she said, trying to keep her voice steady and hide her fear.
"Warned me? I'll—"
He raised his hand, aiming to grab her by the hair or her dress.
But his fingers never closed.
Another hand intercepted his wrist mid-motion, gripping so tightly his joints cracked. The man froze.
"Hey now. Don't you think that's going a bit too far?" came a calm, almost lazy voice.
The man holding his wrist wore a black cloak with a hood that hid his face.
But even through the folds of fabric, glimpses of blue cloth and plates of armor over a black glove were visible. The armor was simple in shape, but far too well-crafted for a random traveler.
Whether it was the dim tavern lighting or the alcohol clouding his senses, the bully chose to ignore the obvious. His face twisted.
"Who the fuck are you supposed to be?!" he growled, trying to yank his arm free.
The hand didn't budge, and he paled further as he realized it.
Creak! His friends finally understood what was happening and stood up. Chairs scraped across the floor as four men rose, slowly circling the stranger.
He glanced toward the waitress. She stood two steps away, tray clutched to her chest, not daring to breathe. When she caught his glance, the stranger gave her a barely noticeable wink.
The girl jolted.
"Are you alright? They didn't…"
He didn't finish.
A fist from one of the friends slammed into his temple. The hood slipped off, revealing light hair and refined features—the kind rarely seen in a tavern like this.
Despite the direct hit, he didn't even flinch.
He continued speaking in the same voice, as if nothing had happened:
"…do anything to you?"
"What the hell is he—"
He didn't finish either.
The man appeared right next to the girl again. He had simply taken a step—and in that same moment, the five aggressors dropped to the floor, swept away by something.
They were his strikes—so fast that no one in the tavern even registered how he moved.
Even the warriors trained in aura, who had been watching him, froze in stunned silence, sensing the danger. One thought flashed through all their minds:
"If I were standing against him—I'd already be dead."
The man, ignoring the rising whispers and stunned hush around him, gently touched the girl's hand.
"O-oh… madonna, you're hurt," he said softly.
He leaned in and brushed his lips against the small scratch on the upper part of her arm, making the girl's cheeks immediately flush red.
He smiled warmly.
"What is your name, madonna?" he asked, still holding her hand.
"E… Eli…" she managed to say.
"Eli…" he repeated, as if tasting the sound of it. "A lovely name."
He leaned a little closer, almost brushing against her hair. His voice grew lower and softer:
"And my name is Brynn. And I must admit…" his gaze slid over her eyes, "if I had known a beauty like you worked in this tavern, I would have come sooner."
Eli blushed even harder.
About an hour passed. In that time, Brynn and Eli had struck up a conversation. She blushed shyly, sometimes nearly choking from laughter at his jokes, and he looked as though he hadn't enjoyed someone's company this much in a long time.
Sitting at the table, Brynn leaned toward her, as if about to share a secret.
"Want to hear a secret?" he whispered conspiratorially.
Eli nodded, biting her lip.
"I'm actually a knight of the Church… from a special division," he said in a hushed voice.
Eli giggled softly, covering her mouth with her hand.
"Sure, of course…"
Brynn sighed theatrically, pretending his deep secret was of no interest to anyone.
"But seriously…" Brynn lowered his voice and leaned closer. "I've been hunting a very dangerous criminal for a long time…"
Eli raised her eyebrows, unsure whether he was joking.
"So dangerous that the Church itself declared her an enemy," he added quietly, looking straight into her eyes.
Eli giggled again, though with less confidence.
Brynn interlaced his fingers and whispered dramatically:
"She's a dangerous demon. A Migurd. Oh, madonna… these creatures not only read your thoughts. They can control your mind."
"Ah! That can't be!" Eli gasped, a mix of fear and doubt in her eyes.
"But there's good news," Brynn continued softly. "I was lucky enough to find a clue that this demon is planning to come here. To the Kingdom of Asura. Surely for her dark deeds."
He paused, looking into her eyes, preparing to reveal the most important part.
"Her name is Roxy. Roxy of Sharia."
Eli's eyes widened in horror.
"That… that can't be…"
Brynn frowned, not understanding her reaction at all.
"You're mistaken, Brynn…" Eli breathed out, still in shock. "That girl… she's not a demon at all. She saved me. From a real monster."
"She saved you? Madonna, tell me… what exactly happened?"
His voice became so warm and caring that Eli melted for a moment. He looked at her with such attention, as if she were the most important person in the kingdom.
"You can trust me, right? Every detail you remember could save lives."
Eli swallowed, not noticing how his sweet words gently drew more and more out of her.
"Madonna, please remember one thing… If she really is a Migurd, she could have cast any spell she wanted. Sent a monster at you… or clouded your mind. These creatures are clever."
Eli gasped, covering her mouth.
"N-no! She… she saved me!" she cried. "And after that she said… said she was heading to the Boreas region."
"Then fate brought us together, madonna. So many years of searching… and now I find her trail right here. Thanks to you."
A flicker of genuine joy crossed his face: thoughts of a long-awaited promotion, recognition, glory were already spinning in his mind.
He took her hand again, gently brushing her skin with his thumb.
"You can't imagine how much you've helped, Eli. And… how pleasant you are to me," he said softly, making her blush to the tips of her ears.
From there, everything flowed naturally. His words grew warmer, his gaze more alluring, and the space between them shrank.
Soon they went upstairs, disappearing into one of the rooms.
***
"Achoo!"
Roxy sneezed and rubbed her little nose, holding her pointed hat so it wouldn't fly off.
"Hm… Someone must be thinking about me. I hope it's something good!" she said, still rubbing it.
"…of course it is…" mumbled Rudeus, still fussing with the tuonite orb and trying at least not to hit himself with it whenever he poured mana into it.
Thud!
"Hey, don't get distracted!" Roxy's staff smacked him on the forehead again.
"Why's your nose itching so much? Draft?" Rudeus muttered, picking up the tuonite.
"It's a sign, Rudy," Roxy said importantly, raising a finger. "Someone is thinking about me. And knowing my fate… it's usually a bad omen."
"Who could possibly be thinking badly about you?" Rudeus turned the orb in his hands and poured mana into it again.
"Anyone! Absolutely anyone!" Roxy threw her hands up. "I… help people. That's always suspicious!"
"How is helping suspicious?"
"Look," Roxy began pacing back and forth, holding onto her hat. "When I was riding here, I saved a girl… what was her name… uh… forgot. Not important! She was happy, of course… but who knows if she remembers me with gratitude? Or with horror because she ended up elbow-deep in a monster's brains?"
Rudeus grimaced.
"Brains?" he yelped, staring at her wider than usual. "That's awful! What were you even doing there? Were you actually helping?!"
Thud!
Roxy's staff hit his forehead again.
"Achoo!" she sneezed again. "I don't like this, Rudy. I feel… trouble is coming."
"Maybe don't be so dramatic?"
"Fine, I won't be dramatic… but something's still off. Feels like… trouble is walking around nearby."
She sighed heavily and stared into the distance.
"Someone really is thinking about me. And very persistently."
"Maybe it's that girl… the nameless one?" Rudeus suggested.
"I doubt it. She looked sweet. And this… this feels sticky. Unpleasant."
She sneezed again—loud and so suddenly that Rudeus jumped.
"See?!" she shouted. "It's a warning from fate!"
"Or dust…"
"A warning!" Roxy insisted.
They bickered a while longer until Rudeus finally managed to stabilize the orb. The tuonite glowed in his palms, neither twitching nor exploding nor trying to shoot into his eye.
Roxy narrowed her eyes, watching the pulsing light.
"See," she said, folding her arms. "All you needed was to argue less and listen to your teacher more."
"We were arguing because you were arguing," Rudeus muttered.
The staff swayed threateningly.
Rudeus immediately corrected himself:
"I mean… thank you, Teacher Roxy."
Roxy nodded in satisfaction, looking at the steadily glowing orb.
"Alright, now that you've at least mastered this… it's time to move on to the next step," she said, adjusting her hat. "But we'll do that tomorrow. Enough for today."
And so ended a day full of arguments, sneezes, and ominous premonitions—none of which either of them yet understood would turn out to be far more serious than they imagined.