"Follow me! La la la la," trilled Glucia, skipping down the trail adorned with flowers. Hilda shadowed her closely, their chatter filling the air.

Cain and Preston were engrossed in a quiet discussion, their murmurs echoing subtly through the forest.

Osric walked alongside, observing the forest. The huge oakline trees almost covered the entirety of the forest sky. The murmurs of the talk were accompanied by the crunching of fresh leaves that had been scattered by animals and hunters alike.

Osric sauntered alongside, his eyes roving over the forest landscape. Towering oaks veiled much of the forest canopy, their grandeur imposing. The soft whispers of conversation were punctuated by the crunch of fresh leaves underfoot, scattered by both the forest inhabitants and hunters alike.

Their current location was still within the boundaries of the village, hence, their alertness remained relatively low.

Osric cast a glance at the flowers that adorned the trail, their golden petals fully unfurled in greeting. These rupentile daffodils lining the trail were one of the reasons everyone let their guards down. Colloquially dubbed 'safety flowers,' they preferred tranquil environments, so if any creature bearing malicious intent or corruption brushed past them, they would wilt in response. They were situated along the village boundaries, their gentle existence a beacon of reassurance for the villagers and hunters alike.

Due to their uncanny ability to detect and signal danger, if exposed to a stressed environment, the daffodils reacted. As if responding to an unsavory touch, the daffodils would gradually start to wither, their once radiant petals losing their luster. The number of wilting petals served as a direct reflection of the potential danger that lurked nearby. If all petals withered, it signified the presence of a being close to Rank 1. As these flowers had grown accustomed to human proximity, they wouldn't wilt unless someone deliberately exuded malicious intent.

Often utilized by hunters, this trail was a prime source of warnings regarding any dangerous creatures that might have infiltrated the village. The flower-lined path was a favorite among hunters, who appreciated the floral guardians as early indicators of potential threats lurking nearby.

A question from Cain pulled Osric from his thoughts. "When did you learn to use a spear, Osric? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with one,” he asked, curiosity shining in his eyes.

"Whenever you weren't looking," Osric responded with a roguish grin.

“I had thought of opting for a spear as well,” chimed in Preston, “but there's just something inherently satisfying about crushing things with my axe. I just can't choose anything else.”

“Sword is better. I have the best of both worlds. Stabbing and smashing and with control. There’s a reason it’s called an ultimate weapon.” retorted Cain, sparking a discussion on weapon preference.

“It’s so boring, though,” Preston countered, “Almost EVERYONE uses it. Can't we be a bit more unique?”

“It’s about practicality, not appearance. Function over form,” Cain rebutted.

“Actually, I kind of agree with Cain,” Hilda voiced her opinion from the front, “A weapon should be elegant. A crude weapon reflects a crude wielder."

“Hey! I take offense to that,” Preston and Cain retorted in unison.

Glucia glanced back at the group, a mischievous grin tugging at her lips. "Oh, come on now, you two," she chimed in. "Preston, Cain, there's no need to get riled up. After all, who needs elegance when you can have raw power? You just need strong raw power," she mimed a punch in the air, "and smash your opponents to tiny bits!"

Preston scoffed, shaking his head. "But Glucia, you're missing the point entirely! A weapon is an extension of oneself. It should reflect our individuality and style. The sword may be practical, but it lacks that unique flair."

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Cain raised an eyebrow, playfully challenging Preston's argument. "Individuality, you say? Well, if you want to stand out, how about using a flaming whip, Preston? That would surely make heads turn!"

Osric chuckled, joining in on the banter. "A flaming whip? Now that's something I'd like to see.!"

Hilda, walking ahead, turned around with a mischievous smile. "Well, if we're talking about unique weapons, how about a boomerang? It's practical, stylish, and it always comes back to you. Plus, it's perfect for those long-range attacks."

Preston crossed his arms, considering Hilda's suggestion. "Hmm, a boomerang, you say? That could work. I could throw it, and while it circles back, I can smash enemies with my axe at the same time! That would be a sight to behold."

Glucia twirled her slingshot in the air, grinning mischievously. "You all lack imagination! How about a magical staff that shoots flaming whips? Imagine the spectacle: explosions of steel and light painting the battlefield. It's practical, flashy, and sounds absolutely thrilling!"

Cain shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "Well, Glucia, if we're going for magical weapons, I'd like a sword that morphs into a shield. Best of both worlds, right? I can cut down enemies and deflect their attacks effortlessly.”

“Hey! We’re almost here.” Glucia exclaimed, bringing the discussion to a halt.

Their voices quieted down as they went further along the trail of flowers, the various paths from different directions merging seamlessly, forming a central meeting point. The atmosphere, once slightly quiet, now emanated a sense of activity.

Glucia stopped, her skips transforming into an excited little dance. "Look, we've arrived at the hub! Look around, everyone!" she exclaimed, her arms wide to encompass the animated scene.

In the clearing, villagers milled around, their voices echoing with anticipation and excitement. Hunters returned, laden with trophies from their successful hunts. The air was rich with the aroma of freshly cooked meals, and the sound of merchants advertising their goods.

“Hey Disc, I heard you were tailing some Hidetorn mammoths? How did the hunt go?” a hunter yelled across the clearing, eager for news.

“We bagged a calf, but had to run when the adults showed up!” came the reply.

As they meandered through the bustling encampment, the group of newcomers drew curious glances. Weathered hunters paused in their tasks, intrigue gleaming in their eyes as they sized up the fresh faces.

"Looks like we got rookies on their first hunt," came a jovial call from a nearby group. They were an eclectic mix of grizzled veterans .

A hearty chuckle rang out from another direction, followed by a good-natured jab, "These ones are a bit early, but just look at the anticipation in their eyes!" The speaker, a hunter of considerable stature, clapped his companion on the shoulder, his face alight with a sense of excitement.

A kind-hearted huntress, with braids of blush-black hair and laugh lines etched deeply on her face, approached them. “Looks like you all are greenhorns going in for your first time. Stay safe, kiddos! May Sylvanus stay in your hearts,” she said, her voice warm with sincerity and encouragement.

“Thanks, we will try. May Sylvanus aid you in your hunt.” Cain responded, matching her warmth. His respectful tone garnered approving nods from the nearby hunters.

As they navigated through the throng of fellow hunters, Osric took in the friendly atmosphere. "Peace indeed builds a foundation for camaraderie. These hunters are welcoming, not vying for territory or resources. So," he noted, eyeing their tools and gauging their composure, "absence of competition seems to have dulled their edges."

Moving past the crowd, the group's gaze shifted to the two imposing guards stationed near a pathway leading deeper into the forest. They stood tall and vigilant, his eyes scanning the surroundings for any potential threats. With halberds in hand, their dark armor gleamed under the dappled sunlight that filtered through the dense foliage.

Observing them, Osric stated, "Looks like they're serious about preventing anyone from venturing into the forest’s outer layer." His finger subtly pointed toward the armored figures.

The village boundaries encompassed five major exit points into the outer forest, each one rigorously guarded. The rest of the enclosure was protected by an array of techniques and abilities to thwart any unauthorized intrusion. Nestled near the Darkhold mountains, three major villages stood in a delicate balance, their relations marred by persistent conflicts over resources and territory.

Cain crossed his arms, deep in thought. "We have permission, so let's go."

With their decision made, the group approached the guards, who stood firm, barring their way with their long halberds. His gaze scrutinized their every move, assessing their intentions.

"We seek passage into the outer forest," Hilda announced, her voice firm. "We have a mission permit." She presented the animal-hide parchment, emblazoned with the official village insignia and the specifics of their mission.

The guard studied the permit carefully, examining the seal and the details of their mission. After a moment of contemplation, he nodded approvingly. "Very well, but be vigilant. The creatures beyond this point can be unpredictable. Return to the village immediately at the first sign of danger."

With the guard's permission, the group went beyond the safety of the village and into the true wilderness.