The second largest city of the Dessert Kingdom, Scone City, was known as the starting point for adventurers.It was also the very reason the Dessert Kingdom was called the Kingdom of Adventurers.
To adventurers across the continent, this was sacred ground—for here lived a legend.
Axel Walpurgis—the man who had once slain the Beastmen King "Sky Raptor" atop the Watchwall; who had hunted the Deep Sea Leviathan across the Seven Isles of the South; and who, as a mere mortal, had killed two witches that terrorized entire regions.
For his deeds, the Church had honored him with the title of Knight of Merit. Now retired from his wild years, he served as the Guildmaster of Scone City's Adventurers' Guild, the man who handed out every new adventurer's very first quest.
"Hey, did you hear? Guildmaster Axel challenged Old Deezer to another duel."
"Again? What's the story this time?"
"Been going on for over a month now. Every so often, Axel just drags Old Deezer outside the city to 'spar.'"
"Hah, sparring, sure—it's just Old Deezer getting his face smashed in."
"Don't talk nonsense. Deezer's no pushover! Remember Bloodaxe Barodo? The guy ran half of the Dessert Kingdom's smuggling routes. He got arrogant, picked a fight with Deezer—and Deezer beat him to death!"
"Yeah, but have you seen Deezer's face lately? It's swollen like a bread loaf."
The man speaking jerked his chin toward the door. His drinking buddy followed his gaze—and froze.
An old man with a black eye and a very bad mood shoved open the tavern door. Behind him loomed a two-meter-tall mountain of muscle—none other than Guildmaster Axel himself.
The tavern, owned by the Guild, fell quiet for a heartbeat, then noise returned in a rush. A few wide-eyed rookie adventurers half-rose from their seats, eager to greet their idol—only to be yanked back down by the grizzled veterans beside them.
Axel, used to this scene, greeted familiar faces as he walked in. But as his gaze swept the room, he paused.
At one table sat a child—barely a teenager—holding a white cat in his arms. Beside him stood a young elf maid, neat and quiet.
They didn't look like adventurers at all. More like some noble's son sneaking out to "experience the common life."
Axel frowned slightly. A tavern wasn't the place for children. Yet when he noticed the milk in their cups, he simply sighed and looked away.
The boy, however, politely nodded at him in greeting.
When Axel found a seat elsewhere, Hel turned toward his maid.
"All right, Anna," he said softly, "I've seen what I came to see. We can go now."
"Ah—yes, young master," Anna said, startled. "But weren't you here to hire adventurers for escort?"
"No," Hel replied with a faint smile, tightening his hold on the white cat in his arms.
"I just wanted to experience the life of an adventurer. Now that I've done that, there's no need to stay."
As they left, the cat—Niv—blinked up at him and spoke through their soul-link:
"Master only came to see that legendary adventurer in person?"
"Yes," Hel replied with a small chuckle, stroking her soft fur.
"There's something… about him that caught my attention."
"Did Master find something strange?" Niv asked again through the link.
"A little," Hel murmured, glancing briefly at Axel across the tavern.
"It seems the legacy of the divine offspring hasn't vanished after all. The Walpurgis line carries the blood of the Goddess of Wisdom. That's why it's so easy for witches to be born from their family."
"Divine offspring…?" Niv's feline face grew uncharacteristically serious.
"By all accounts, they disappeared at the end of the Fifth Epoch."
"How so?" Hel's curiosity sparked—she'd never heard Niv mention them before.
"From what little we've recovered from history," Niv said slowly, "the world was once drenched in the blood of gods. The divine offspring were those whose bloodlines regressed—or evolved—toward divinity. Some were born that way; others were transformed after contact with divine blood.
"They weren't just gifted—they could do something unique."
"What kind of ability?" Hel asked, still idly scratching Niv's chin.
"They could bear a god's divinity—a Divine Core."
"Divine Core, huh… rather like the witches' essence," Hel mused.
"If that's the case, why did the divine offspring vanish? And if the gods really reclaimed their thrones, why do witches still exist?"
Her brows furrowed, lost in thought. But Niv could only shake her head.
Even in the highest-grade data archives, there were only scattered mentions of divine offspring—mostly records of them bringing disasters, seizing kingdoms, or famous heroes later revealed to have divine heritage.
As for how or why they vanished, all that was written was a single phrase: "When the gods returned to their seats."
"Forget it," Hel finally sighed.
"Speculating won't help. Whether it's why the divine offspring disappeared or why witches appeared afterward, those answers are still far beyond our reach. If not even the S-Class archives contain clues, then only the Goblin Empire's capital might still hold the truth."
"Mhm." Niv nodded, rubbing her small head affectionately against Hel's chest.
Together with Anna, the trio walked out of the tavern toward their waiting caravan. They were set to depart that very night.
But behind them, a small cloaked figure watched their backs from the alleyway. She bit her lip, then slipped after them on quiet feet.
Perhaps too hastily—her left foot caught her right, and she stumbled.
Her hood tipped back for a heartbeat, revealing a glint of brilliant golden hair. She yanked the hood down quickly, glanced around—no one seemed to notice—and hurried to follow them once more.
Yet, neither she nor Hel noticed the plump white pigeon perched on a nearby roof, watching her with a knowing gleam in its beady eyes.
The bird flapped its wings—and silently followed the golden-haired girl into the night.