The black smoke blended seamlessly into the night, exuding a warm aroma of cedar embers. The campfire crackled loudly and aggressively, the thick sticks reluctantly giving way.

We warmed up our bare feet in a circle around it and ate Richie's stew, a concoction of potatoes, carrots, and meat with a spiced bone broth as a base. If not skilled in combat, this man understood the effectiveness of turning a few ingredients into excellent dishes.

“Have you heard?” Carl asked, blowing steam from his spoon. His dark brown eyes between his blonde hair reflected the fire. “A year ago, a nobleman's child was kidnapped from the capital.”

“Doesn’t that happen all the time?” Ashu asked, his blocky features only more accentuated by the shading.

“Well, since that child vanished, there have been sightings of a child near here. Allegedly, the ghost of this child is roaming around in the forest.”

“What's with the ghost story?” Ashu frowned.

“I also overheard something like that,” Richie said, stirring in the pot above the fire. “The villagers said the spirit protects them from monsters, but you should never talk to it.”

“What could possibly happen?” Ashu slurped the last bits of stew out of his bowl, finishing it with a satisfied, steamy sigh. “It's just a ghost.”

Carl waggled his empty spoon, pointing. “That's the thing. It’s not just a Ghost. Ghosts are already dead—”

“Duh.”

“—so, they have nothing left to lose.”

“Better not to mess with it,” Richie said. “Let's take on another quest instead.”

“Yes,” Carl said. “The spirit protects the villagers, so why challenge it?”

“True.”

“Oh, you're just scared!” Ashu waggled a stick and threw it into the fire. “We are adventurers. Besides, the quest gives good money, which we need.”

“We need our lives more,” Carl said, and Richie nodded.

Ashu scoffed. “Well, no money, no life.”

“No!” Carl shook his head. “No life, no money.”

“Stop arguing!” Richie said.

“What do you mean? We have to settle—”

“Excuse me,” a fourth voice said out of the shadows.

Richie and Carl flinched, searching for their weapons while Ashu had already drawn his battle ax. “Who’s there?”

A boy stepped into the light, leaving the shadows behind as if they had clung to him. “My apologies. I couldn’t help but listen in on your conversation.”

The group relaxed at the boy’s sight. He wore severely worn but well-made boots that could well have been more expensive than the odd sword. The rest of the outfit was relatively intact, but nothing matched. The fur coat clashed with the dark blue pants and beige shirt, both of which were a tad too big for him. And at first glance, he didn't appear to be armed.

What was he doing here all alone so far from the village?

“Would you mind becoming friends?” the boy asked.

The group was speechless and watched the boy tilt his head in confusion.

Richie spoke first. “Stew?” He pointed at the pot.

Ashu spun around. “Huh? What if it’s some kind of trap?!”

“Well, if it is. I believe we’re already goners. Might as well be nice to our—guest and hope he doesn’t eat us. No?”

“I mean . . . I guess.” Carl waited for Ashu to lower his weapon.

“You mustn’t worry. While I do plan to create a trap that involves you, if you wouldn’t mind, it won’t be you that will be trapped.”

Ashu eyed the boy with intrigue. “How old are you?”

“13, Sir.”

“Hmph. You've got the nerve to walk around here on your own. Are you an adventurer?”

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

“Not yet. My birthday wasn't that long ago.”

Ashu sighed deeply, then lowered his axe. “Come sit.” He gestured to Carl’s log and sat on his own.

“Thank you.”

When everyone sat, Richie passed the boy a bowl of his stew. “Tell me how it tastes.”

The boy gladly accepted with a grin and didn’t hesitate to shove the first spoon into his mouth. He froze for a moment and eyed the steaming bowl of stew. Then he put the spoon aside and downed the whole bowl in just a few gulps. “That’s incredible! ” He held out the bowl to Richie. “More please.”

Richie grinned and refilled the bowl. “I like him.”

The group let the boy eat, sacrificing half the pot for him.

“Now, boy,” Ashu said. “What was that about the trap you mentioned earlier?”

“You need money, right? And Quests like obtaining monster items bring money?”

“No two ways about it,” Carl said.

“Good.” The boy untied two pouches strapped to his waist and opened them. Inside were various Monster Items, from Wolf Fangs and Bat Teeth to Goblin Ears and even a Golem Core.

The group's eyes twinkled at the sight of the small fortune. This would provide a thrifty villager with enough money to finance a small house for the rest of his life. Or even a month's accommodation in the city.

“That’s quite the collection you have,” Ashu said, rubbing his chin. “Who the hell have you stolen from?”

“Stolen? Hmm, I guess you can say it like that. I got these from various Monsters.”

The group eyed the boy suspiciously.

“You’re telling us you fought for all of this?” Carl asked.

“No two ways about it,” the boy said with a smile.

“How?” Ashu stood, surprising everyone and himself.

“Ey, would you mind if I snatched myself one of the Goblin Ears?” Richie asked.

“Go ahead.”

“Sweet!”

“I know a way to get more, lots and lots more. And we wouldn’t even have to search or really fight any Monsters.”

“You’re kidding.” Carl took a deeper look into one of the pouches.

“How?!” Ashu’s eyes twitched in anticipation of hearing the boy’s secret.

The boy grinned proudly. “You must agree to help me first, then I'll tell you.”

The group exchanged looks. Richie held two Goblin Ears to his head and nodded eagerly, and Carl shot a double thumbs up.

Ashu sighed. “Alright, you petty businessman. Deal.”

“Perfect!”

The boy went on to explain his grand plan to the group, or rather, the first step of it. He had already practiced how best to get his vision across. Saving the details and tediousness for later, he emphasized the practicality and potential of exponential worth, just like his father’s business partners had constantly tried to persuade him.

As thoughts go, the boy's drifted away, and he couldn't help but think about whether his little brother was living up to their father's expectations. He had a lot of talent for the second-born child. Sometimes, the boy even thought that his brother had inherited his talent. I wonder if he had already mastered his first spells.

The boy cleared his throat and forced himself back to the subject. One must not reveal one's genuine emotions. Especially not now when it was about convincing others. A poor face would only unsettle them.

—

“Interesting . . . really. But why are you asking us?” Ashu asked.

“Yeah, it seems more like you need builders and merchants than some lousy adventurers?” Richie

“Hey—” Carl

“Well, what can I say. Finding someone is not that easy.” the boy said.

“Well, we're a little way from the town, but the village is only half a day away,” Carl said.

“I know that. I didn't mean it like that. You just seem nice. That's why you gave me some of your food, right? Maybe you don't trust me, but you can trust me too, right?” the boy asked.

“You don't socialize much, do you?” Ashu asked. “Tell me, did you run away from home—”

Carl nudged him in the side. “Hey, don't ask me that.”

“Huh? Why not?”

“Because . . .”

“Run away?” the boy repeated. “Hm. You could call it that. And you?”

“Us? Eh, well, we're just traveling,” Richie said.

Carl scoffed. “Adventurous business traveling!”

“Haha, that's right.”

“Yea. Ashu, here, needs a bit of change to move out. His wife is newly pregnant, and they want their own house.” Carl smirked.

“So you're starting your own . . . family?”

Ashu nodded but turned his reddening head away.

“Hehe, he's a bit shy when it comes to her.” Carl winked and laughed mischievously.

“Pah. Shall I introduce you to my ax? She could be your first kiss.” Ashu tapped his weapon.

“Okay, okay.” Carl raised his hands. “I'll stop.”

The boy grinned, amused.

“I need money for my future restaurant,” Richie said. “If you come by, I'll buy you a drink!”

“Hey, me too!” Carl folded his arms.

“Sure thing, man.”

“And what about you?” The boy looked at Carl.

“Me? Well . . . I'll see where it takes me.”

“Alright.” The boy stood, too, looking at his companions. “A chef for his restaurant, a father-to-be for his family house, a joker to find his place, and me! Together, we’ll build the very first Monster Trap.”

Progression Towards Immortality: 0,000004%