Asper turned sharply to see the source of the voice. A man sat hunched at a nearby table, his hair disheveled and his face flushed red from too much ale. His clothes were tattered, though they bore the markings of an experienced adventurer. A half-empty mug of ale rested precariously in his hand.

"Sixteen guilds?" Asper repeated, incredulous. "What happened to them?"

The drunk man-Mr. Lorne, as the receptionist later confirmed-turned his bleary gaze on Asper. "Kid, you ever heard of Cornwall Village?" He leaned forward, squinting as though trying to place Asper. "Where you from, anyway? Darzine Village, eh?"

Asper blinked, taken aback. "Yeah, how did you-"

"Darzine Village!" Lorne bellowed, interrupting him, slamming his mug on the table. "Do they even let people out of their cages there? Hah! You lot are scared of your own shadows!" He laughed, a harsh, mocking sound that grated on Asper's nerves. "I was there once, a few years ago. A Qurint wandered in, but your people didn't even know what it was! Never seen one before, too scared to face anything from outside that precious little bubble you live in!"

Asper clenched his fists but stayed silent, unwilling to let the man's jabs get to him.

Lorne continued, unbothered by Asper's reaction, waving his hand lazily. "So, you came here to play adventurer, did you? Catch a Qurint? Ha! Good luck. People from Darzine wouldn't last a day in the real world."

Before Asper could respond, the receptionist cut in, her voice sharp. "That's enough, Mr. Lorne. There's no need to insult the boy." She shot him a stern look, but Lorne only snorted in response.

Still, Asper's curiosity burned hotter. He leaned in toward Lorne, ignoring the man's taunts. "What happened to the sixteen guilds? What's going on in Cornwall Village?"

Lorne's mocking expression grew grim, his demeanor darkening. He looked Asper dead in the eyes, as if weighing whether to tell him the truth. "Cornwall Village... it's under the thumb of Duke Gilles De Cornwall. But the real power? It's a gang. They're the ones in control. Oppressing the villagers, and from what I've heard, killing any guild members who come sniffing around for work. Cornwall's just a baited trap. A place where they lure guilds in, and those poor bastards never come back."

The receptionist's face tightened. "Mr. Lorne, stop spreading baseless rumours. The guild members are missing, but that doesn't mean they're dead."

Lorne sneered, his voice lowering to a growl. "Missing, dead... what's the difference? I've seen it. Saw them dragged away like animals, one by one. Hunters, caught in their own trap."

"That's enough!" The receptionist's voice snapped with authority. "We still have faith that our people are alive."

Lorne muttered something incoherent under his breath, glaring at her. "Rylin,.. Faith won't bring them back," he slurred, his words becoming muddled. His head drooped as he struggled to stay upright, the effects of the alcohol finally overpowering him. He tried to say something more, a final angry remark, but before he could finish, his eyes rolled back, and he collapsed onto the table, his mug spilling onto the floor.

Asper sat in silence for a moment, overwhelmed by the weight of what he'd just learned. Sixteen guilds, all gone? What kind of danger lay in Cornwall Village?

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He stood up, preparing to leave, but Rylin-the receptionist-called out to him.

"Kid," she said softly, her tone now filled with concern, "I have a feeling you'll take the route through Cornwall anyway. Just... try to avoid trouble, alright?"

Asper scratched the back of his head, giving a sheepish grin. "Was it that obvious? I'll do my best to stay out of it."

She shook her head, but there was a small, knowing smile on her lips. "Just be careful."

With that, Asper made his way out of the inn. The fresh air hit him like a slap to the face, shaking him out of his daze. He made his way through the thick underbrush, the last vestiges of Task Nebula's inn now far behind him. The dense forest surrounded him with towering trees and damp earth beneath his feet, and he could just make out a muddy trail ahead that marked the road to Cornwall Village. He'd been pushing through the woods for nearly half an hour, sidestepping brambles and trying to keep his nerves steady.

The sound of his own footsteps became oddly comforting, blending with the rustling of leaves and the occasional distant bird call. As he finally broke through a wall of thick foliage, he stumbled onto a wide, muddy path. "This must be the road," he muttered, wiping the sweat from his brow. He took a moment to catch his breath, glancing down at his muddied shoes, and took one step forward-right onto something soft and furry.

A low, menacing growl pierced the silence.

Asper's eyes widened as he looked down to see the swishing tail of a Suntooth Leopard, its barbed tip twitching in irritation. The creature had been lying in wait, its sleek, spotted body blending almost perfectly with the mud and shadows, eyes now glowing with fury as they locked onto Asper.

"Oh no," he whispered, already feeling his legs tense, ready to flee.

The leopard's growl grew louder as it raised itself to full height, ears pinned back, and muscles coiled to strike. Asper bolted, barely evading its first swipe, and ran with all his might down the path, arms pumping as he tore through the air.

"What is wrong with my luck?!" he yelled, dodging a stray root and trying to keep his balance. His breath came in ragged gasps as he glanced back, seeing the leopard swiftly closing the gap. "I just wanted to get to the village, not be lunch!"

Ahead, a figure appeared on the road, walking calmly, as though unaware of the chaos barreling toward him. Asper could make out the shape of a man in a black t-shirt with military-style pants, caked in dust and mud. The man's slicked-back hair was a muddy brown, contrasting with his weathered, rectangular face that looked as though it had seen a few too many skirmishes. He appeared to be in his early forties, his expression calm, hands resting on the hilt of a long sword hanging at his waist.

"Help me!" Asper screamed, still sprinting. The man raised an eyebrow, his eyes assessing the scene with a cold calculation, then casually reached for his sword. Without a word, he took a step forward, timing his movement precisely as Asper raced past him. In one fluid motion, the man spun, swinging the hilt of his sword squarely into the leopard's head, striking it with a solid thud. The leopard collapsed in a heap, unconscious.

Asper skidded to a stop, panting heavily as he doubled over, hands on his knees. He glanced back to see the leopard sprawled out, and heaved a sigh of relief, dropping to the ground. "Thanks for that," he managed between breaths, looking up at the man with an appreciative smile.

The man walked over slowly, his boots crunching on the gravelly path. Asper held out his hand, expecting help to get up. But the man stopped just short, a wicked smirk spreading across his lips.

"Bad luck really seems to follow you, doesn't it, adventurer?" the man sneered, his voice dripping with dark amusement.

Asper managed a weak smile, ready to thank him, but the man's expression shifted, and suddenly, his sword was at Asper's neck. The cold steel pressed just enough to send a chill through him, cutting off any words he might have had.

Asper's heart skipped a beat as he stared up, wide-eyed. "Wh-what... what're you doing?" he stammered, his mind struggling to process the sudden shift from savior to threat.

The man remained silent, his grip on the sword hilt tightening, his gaze sharp and unreadable.

Asper blinked, his mind racing. "What... what's the meaning of this?"