Although the guild had been closed for a while, many staff members were still outside.

Jenny and several others were explaining the situation to groups of adventurers arriving in intervals. Their expressions were grave; few seemed optimistic that they could intercept the raid in time.

Nearby, several merchants were unloading provisions and travel supplies, which guild staff were hastily dividing into individual packs. The normally quiet area in front of the guild was now bustling with people and supplies.

Multiple torches illuminated the gathering, but the light only reached so far, casting deep shadows around the perimeter.

Footsteps echoed as another group approached.

“We’ve managed to secure two wagons and five horses!” someone shouted to the staff. Moments later, other voices called out from different directions.

“We’ve got three carts for the supplies.”

“I’ve borrowed four horses, but one’s pretty old,” another reported.

The guild worker who’d accompanied me leaned over and spoke quietly.

“They’re still gathering food, horses, and carts. We’ll likely depart by dawn. But are you really planning to go on your own?”

He looked doubtful, as if he couldn’t quite believe I could travel faster than a horse with magic.

“Yes,” I replied. “But if I could have a bit of food and a map, just in case…”

It seemed Jenny had noticed me by now. She and the other staff members turned their heads, their faces brightening with relief.

“Rafa, you’re here,” Jenny said, visibly relieved as she hurried over.

“We need to depart as soon as possible, but finding transportation has been difficult. Many adventurers don’t even know how to ride, so just having horses alone isn’t enough,” she said, glancing at me with concern.

“Can you ride, Rafa?”

“No, I’ve never ridden a horse before. But I don’t need one. I can run faster than a horse using wind magic.”

Jenny’s eyes widened.

“I’ve worked here since I was young, and I’ve never heard of such a thing! I didn’t know a mage could do that.”

It made sense—most mages couldn’t. I’d heard that every mage had their unique approach to harnessing magic, and sometimes knowing how to do something didn’t mean you could do it. Especially for strong mages, technique often depended on their own special methods.

Tatiana had mentioned that using magic effectively was the key to true power.

During my brief conversation with Jenny, the guild worker returned, carrying a map and a small bag of provisions. With my torch in hand, I set off immediately.

When the other adventurers realized I was going ahead alone, they called out to me.

“Rafa! We’re counting on you!”

“We’ll follow as soon as we can!”

“Hold them off for just a while longer!”

It would likely all be over by the time they arrived.

I raised a hand in acknowledgment and started to run.

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“Sir Paul, we’re ready,” someone reported.

“Understood,” Paul replied, pressing his fingers to his tired eyes before getting up from his chair.

He’d only managed to snatch about an hour of sleep. For the past few days, proper rest had been a luxury he couldn’t afford.

For an adventurer, slaying a dragon might be the main event, but Paul’s real work began afterward.

Managing the dragon’s dissection and arranging its sale involved the hands-on efforts of his entire team, but every step still required Paul’s approval. Negotiations with guild members and merchants were just as demanding.

It wasn’t all about getting the highest price either. Some merchants held significant influence in the city, so he had to consider every decision carefully.

Even in his sleep, he dreamed of negotiations over the dragon’s hide.

“Just a few more days, and it’ll be over.”

The dragon’s heart and innards had already been shipped out. Only the hide and bones remained.

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Since there were so few skilled enough to work with dragonhide, they’d decided to prepare and process the materials here. Selling the pieces separately allowed them to fetch a higher price overall.

Although some merchants were a little disgruntled, they couldn’t really argue. After all, the local craftsmen here were top-tier, and the hide was in excellent condition, having been processed immediately.

The small dragon’s hide, though from a lesser species, was a rare find in this pristine state.

“I’ll see this through and secure the best price possible,” Paul thought, forcing himself to stay sharp.

Leaving his tent, he nodded to the weary guild staff gathered outside. Their exhaustion was plain, but they continued their work diligently.

Paul entered the large tent where the dragonhide and bones were stored. Several merchants had already gathered, their employees and guards standing at the back with bags of gold, ready to exchange them for trade certificates as soon as the deals were finalized.

One side of the tent was partitioned with cloth, hiding the dragonhide and bones.

At Paul’s nod, the attendant lifted the partition, revealing the hide. The merchants surged forward, their eyes gleaming as they inspected the goods.

Then, from outside, they heard a cry.

“Bandits! We’re under attack!”

Screams erupted from all directions.

“Bandits? Here?”

Dusty County did have some bandits, but they’d specifically chosen this location, thinking the area was clear of any large bandit groups.

Paul rushed to the entrance, but before he could make it, he heard the thud of something striking the tent. He looked up to see arrows piercing through the canvas and dropping to the ground.

“Arrows? It really is a raid?”

Drawing his sword, he saw the guards rushing toward him, ready to help fend off the attack. But as he stepped outside, the tent flap lifted, and in walked a giant man clad in armor on one arm.

The giant’s eyes passed over Paul and the merchants, focusing immediately on the dragonhide.

“As expected, it’s in the biggest tent.”

Several rough-looking men followed him inside, their shouts and the agonized cries of their victims filling the tent each time the flap opened.

One of the merchants murmured, barely able to breathe, “It’s Hans the Mighty…”

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Hans had always been known for his strength.

Born to a poor farming family, his parents and the townspeople alike believed he was destined for more than the life of a peasant. The strongest boy in the village, Hans had a wild streak that his family struggled to contain. At thirteen, he was introduced to a mercenary group through a series of connections.

In the beginning, he was nothing but a servant, a punching bag for the others. Back in his village, no one could best him in strength, but in the mercenary group, brute force alone wasn’t enough.

Yet Hans was a quick learner. Observing the others, he picked up combat techniques and weapons skills rapidly.

By his second year, he was earning a proper wage. By his third, he’d proven himself as one of the more competent fighters in the group.

Then came the assignment to track down Helga. It shattered his confidence.

When they traced her trail to the city near the enchanted forest, Hans realized just how outmatched he was.

Another pursuit team had already tried to ambush her in the open fields and failed miserably. They’d learned the hard way that she couldn’t be beaten in open combat.

So, his group waited, hoping to catch Helga off-guard in the city.

They got their chance when she entered the city to collect supplies for a noble named Klaus. They planned to ambush her while her attention was elsewhere.

But Hans couldn’t forget what happened next.

Years later, he still woke up drenched in sweat, haunted by the image of her cold, unwavering eyes.

He remembered those eyes as she sat on Klaus’s carriage, staring him down. He’d fled in terror, instinctively knowing he would die if he didn’t.

One of his comrades had tried to board the carriage after him, but Hans heard the sickening crunch of bone behind him. Without looking back, he ran.

In the end, only seven of them survived, all of whom had escaped in panic. Those who stayed to fight had died, and the two who played dead were left maimed for life.

News of Hans’s cowardice spread like wildfire, and no mercenary group would take him after that.

With no other options, he and the other survivors became bandits.

But even if he’d remained a bandit, Hans might have faded into obscurity. It was the fear of Helga that kept him going, that gnawed at him day and night. The terror that one day she might appear and kill him kept his heart racing.

Desperate for strength, he eventually acquired a strange piece of armor for his arm, though he knew nothing of its origins. With it, his strength multiplied, as if the armor had become an extension of himself.

Since then, he’d experienced nothing but success. Powerful followers flocked to him, his raids brought in increasingly valuable loot, and his weapons grew finer. Even the information he received was of better quality.

Like now.

A village with only a few guards and merchants’ escorts wouldn’t be able to resist them. Hans’s band of elite, honed through trial and attrition, was more than capable of taking it on.

The rumor that Helga had slain the dragons intrigued him. Perhaps facing this fear head-on would free him of it at last.

With his armor, he was confident even she wouldn’t stand a chance.

He knew she wouldn’t be here, but the thought of taking what she’d hunted stirred something in him.

Yet, when they attacked, he found himself disappointed.

The sentries were clueless, falling to arrows without so much as a cry. Once they were dealt with, entering the village was easy.

It was as simple as crushing the hand of a child.

As he entered the largest tent, he saw a polished nobleman and a few attendants standing by, looking as though they’d be grateful to be captured.

No need to search—everything he wanted was right there.

Hans grinned, reaching for the nobleman.

“Lord Paul!” two guards cried, raising their swords to block him. But their clean, practiced swings were useless in a real fight.

Swinging his mace, he sent their swords flying.

“Urgh!”

The guards cried out in pain as one clutched his twisted wrist, and the other collapsed with a groan.

Can’t kill them, Hans reminded himself.

“Take them alive,” he ordered, grinning. “They’ll fetch a good price.”

“Understood, boss!”

Just as his men seized the frightened nobleman, a loud roar erupted from outside.

“Rafa’s here!”

“Rafa’s arrived!”

A chorus of shouts went up, stirring confusion.

Rafa? Who is that? Another soldier? A mercenary?

But as Hans peered through the tent’s opening, his heart seized with dread.

The face that met his gaze was one he could never forget.

There, defying time, Helga stood before him, holding one of his own men high in the air.

As their eyes met, she flung the bandit at him.

Hans barely dodged as his comrade’s body hurtled toward him, and he steadied himself, pushing down the fear that clawed at his spine.

“RAAAAARRRRGH!” Hans screamed, charging forward.

Now, he was not the man he once was.

He was Hans the Mighty.

Enhanced with strength no ordinary man could match.

“DIE, HELGA!” he roared, hurtling toward her.