It was said there were once three sister moons in the night sky.
The world was drenched in darkness, a malignant ichor called Demontide, where evil preyed upon all that was good and tormented all that was innocent. The Goddess Kyaeris, in her boundless benevolence, descended from the heavens and thus made her decree: this world shall be brought to order. She and her angels rained down holy spears upon the demonic spawn for seven moons, bleaching the world in divine light and paving a path toward a new era.
She plucked one of the moons from the sky and molded it into the earth, while the remaining two moons served as her all-knowing eyes. Thus, the crescent-shaped continent Crescelias was born.
But her work wasn't done.
Monsters and demons still threatened the world for as long everyone remembered. Calamities would doom the world and a Hero anointed by the Goddess must rise up and lead the fight against the Demontide.
It was an epic that cycled every one hundred years.
However, years ago, the Great Prophet Halos announced to the world upon the peak of the Holy Garden Kingdom: "The balance of good and evil has been broken. In the years to come, there will be a great many Calamities. Their ferocity and number shall scar the earth, and the Evil Lake shall devour the Nine Kingdoms."
"Children of Kyaeris, hear me. This world has been abandoned."
The man had been lynched and burned at the stake for his heresy. But it was only until a Calamity had crawled out from the Demontide, decades earlier than the cycles would have predicted, that his words were treated as a prophecy, a warning sent by the Goddess.
The leaders of the northern kingdoms of the Crescelias gathered at the summit, mediated by the great Dragon Tale guild.
Collegium of the Northern Magic Towers.
Rosarium the Kingdom of Romance.
Lunaria the Holy Garden.
Sarnaught the Grand Nautical Fleet.
They all signed a pact, and named after the Great Prophet himself, they formed the Halos Alliance.
However, they were never abandoned like Halos had said. Within each of the Children of Kyaeris was the Divine Glass, earning its name from its translucent, glass-like appearance and its origins to the greater divine, a window into the essence of one's own being. From it, they receive her gifts.
Classes, Karma, Status and Skills.
These four gifts were their greatest weapons against the Demontide and its Calamities. They worship, pray and speak to the Divine Glass, diligently carrying on her holy mission to defeat the Demontide.
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Willow swirled the water in her half-empty tankard. She stared inside and her own blue eyes stare back, a little bored, a little tired.
The guild attendants had turned on the lights for the evening. Manastones took over where the fireplace couldn't, spreading their toasty glow throughout the mess hall.
The night was always livelier than the day. Adventure parties would march while the sun's out and would return from their quests by sunset. Then with their reward, they would spend it on the menu, celebrating yet another day of thrilling adventure.
One by one, they filled the seats. By the eighth group, a dull roar filled the room. By the twelfth, it was packed with the warm bodies of drunken revelry, making money and making merry.
At some point, someone under the influence said something they shouldn't and now a fight had broken out. The tables were moved away from the center, almost like clockwork, as the crowd made theirs bets and cheered for who would win.
She supposed she should count herself lucky. She had an entire table to herself, secluded away in one of dark corners where the guild lacked the manastones to light.
Maybe if she was the same girl from seven months ago, she would be among them, maybe appalled, maybe amazed by the spectacle. But a girl could only heal so many broken noses before the excitement was finally beaten out of her.
She would keep an eye and ear out, just in case the fighters took it too far, but that's all.
Otherwise? Just another night in Risadel's branch of the Dragon Tale guild.
Oh, what she would do for some smartphone technology again. Never realized what she took for granted until it was gone. Now the hours would tick on by with barely anything of interest to distract herself with.
These pretty blue windows with all their funky letters and numbers were as close it could get:
[Class] (ERROR)
White Mage
Titles (ERROR)
Apprentice (Bronze)
Teacher (Silver)
Diligence (Gold)
Goblin Slayer (Bronze)
Slime Slayer (Bronze)
Survivor (Bronze)
[Karma]
1294
[Status]
STR: 17
CON: 12
DEX: 11
INT: 17
PER: 15
MAN: 7
LUK: ERROR
[Skills]
Barrier (Silver)
Featherlight (Silver)
Mana Manipulation (Silver)
Mana Sense (Bronze)
Recover (Bronze)
Reinforcement (Silver)
Synthesis (Silver)
Telekinis (Silver)
Starsphere Photonray (Bronze)
Water Manifestation (Bronze)
Water Manipulation (Bronze)
She pinched her brows and groaned. Her strength leveled up again. For most people it's something to celebrate. But there was a saying in the guild, that if your strength stat ever exceeded your intelligence, you automatically qualify as a meathead.
She didn't spend almost two and a half years studying in the Northern Magic Towers just to be another human Fighter, dammit. If anyone found out, she'd lose all respect as a mage!
"Brooding on your lonesome again, Willow?"
"...Secretary Layla." Willow tilted her head toward the voice. "I see you're on waiter duty again."
"And you're as stiff as ever."
A tray of warm, steaming bowls was placed on the table. Fresh from the pot, maybe a little gamey, but it brought a little life into Willow's dark corner all the same.
"Here you go. Tonight's dinner: rice and bogbeast stew!"
Willow picked up her spoon. "Better than bread and pickles, at least."
"You adventurers are never going to let that go, huh?"
Layla stepped around, and Willow thought she was going to serve the next table over; instead, she placed two fresh tankards of beer on the table—sliding one over to Willow and the other to herself—to pull up a chair and sit on the other side.
Layla was a bit older than the other guild attendants of Risadel, perhaps even among the first ones there when the guild branch was rebuilt. When she wasn't drawing eyes with her bright red hair, manning the front desk or serving tables, she's making sure the guild was running exactly as expected. Everyone respected her, even Willow.
Now if only she wasn't so nosy...
Layla rested her chin in her hands, watching the White Mage eat as if she's a grouchy kitten lapping from a bowl of kibble. "How about a drink to loosen up? We finally got another shipment of the good stuff after the last major escort quest, so consider it on the house."
"You know I can't. Someone seriously injured could barge through those doors at any minute."
"Is that really all? Everyone has been accounted for. Nobody will be coming at this hour any time soon, let alone someone stupid enough to get hurt by goblins of all things."
"You'd be surprised," Willow groused.
"Whatever you say, grumpy cat," Layla giggled. "Besides, the Cleric whose supposed to take over should be waking up from her nap by now."
"...That girl is barely hanging together."
"And you're not?" Layla looked at her up and down. "It's been three quests back to back this week and each time you return covered in blood. Should you really be worried about someone else right now?"
Willow masked her grimace with a long swig of water. "...It's my job."
"Your job—pfft!" Layla tried to hide lips with the drinking cup, but that ended up spilling some beer on her collar. "You used to be so cute and confused when you first arrived here six, no, seven months ago. And here you are, your hair turned all white and talking like a real veteran. Oh, where did the time go..."
"My hair is—"
There was a loud cheer.
The crowd parted like the sea as a man was thrown out of the circle and slammed into a wall. There was a blue haze where the brick bent, like rubber, before the enchantment mended it back into shape like it never happened.
Willow made to stand up but then the man pushed off, a little sway in his feet and a little red on his cheeks, but still standing. He wiped the blood from his nose and began strutting back into the circle where the audience egged the brawlers on for a second round.
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Sighing through her nose, Willow settled back down. Then frowned.
Layla noticed the look and leaned in, intrigued. "Thinking of making a bet?"
"You banned me from those, remember?" the White Mage deadpanned. "...I just didn't recognize him. Did more adventurers come in while I was gone?"
"Yep." Layla grinned. "There has been more goblin sightings along the trade routes around Risadel lately. The Merchants Association made enough of a fuss that the Halos Alliance 'generously' sponsored the elimination quests. Even some aspiring adventurers couldn't resist the coin."
"Newbies." Willow squinted. "This close to the Evil Lake?"
"Before you ask, we still haven't heard back from the Support Corps system. Looks like you'll be busy on your own for the next few weeks." Layla's smiled drooped a little. "Sorry."
Willow made a noise half-way between a sigh and a growl.
As a function of the Halos Alliance treaty, the Support Corps was a joint effort between Rosarium and Dragon Tale. The kingdom would lend some of its military personnel, while the guild would lend its adventurers. Just send a status report and a request, and then they're sent wherever they're needed across the northern continent at the discretion of the network.
Supposedly, this kept everything fair and efficient. Those with too much manpower would send help to those with too little. Every quest would be done on time, casualties would be reduced to a minimum, and the continent would be safer from the monsters.
But if the information didn't line up with reality, or if one side made up excuses refused to let go of what few supporters they have, then, well...
"Letting the Rosarium Bureau run their part of the Support Corps was a mistake."
"Mhm," Layla agreed. "You're telling me."
As Willow took another bite of stew, her eyes were drawn to the brawl. Quiet for a moment, contemplating.
"Just me, huh..."
"And the Cleric."
"Again. Barely hanging together."
Willow made to drink but then stopped. The cup's empty.
"Just take the beer, kid." Layla had a gentle look. "Live a little. You'll never know when life would hit you where it hurts."
Willow rolled her eyes. The Secretary would just keep pestering her so she obliged. She stared at the fizzling tankard in her hands. "Funny. You're always on Master Gerald's case for drinking on the job."
"Well that's because that geezer doesn't know a thing about moderation. Can't be too careful around those sailor types. I've seen men who came from the Evil Lake, empty like they lost the winds on the sails, drinking themselves to death. Can't have ourselves lose our only Platinum-ranked adventurer from alcohol poisoning, now can we?"
"Right."
Willow lifted the drink to her lips and—
The crowd went wild, the loudest outcry yet. Half of them cheered while the other half groaned, and that's how they knew that the fight was over.
Willow set the drink down and stood up. "That's my cue."
"W-wait, what about your drink?"
"Give it to the Cleric. After this, I'm done for the night anyways," she said, her voice drowning out as she pushed her way through the circle.
The new guy had won, standing tall and proud. Now that she had a better look at him, he was no stranger to the business. His wide shoulders and toned muscles showed through his shirt, and his unkept beard stained with his own blood. The other guy was on the ground, nursing his head, but mostly sporting the same injuries. Seemed like they both gave as much as they got; a truly honorable duel, according the self-proclaimed poets of the guild.
She rolled up sleeves, mana at her fingertips, already knowing what to do.
One of the adventurers noticed and began pulling the others aside. "Hey, hey, let 'er through. The Nose Fixer's working her magic!"
...Maybe she should go back to warning them against hitting each other in the faces again. They never listen, but a girl could hope.
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Risadel was more of a fortress than a town.
Stone walls, thick and tall, surrounded the town with a river cutting through its center. Soldiers patrolled each side, eyes constantly flickering toward the running waters. Every few blocks there would be a river gate with a bridge on top, and on the bridges, there were cannons and ballistae mounted on the edge, each pointed down the river and paired with crates of mana stones, laid out in the open as if there's not a single worry anyone would mess with them.
Willow gave them a wide berth whenever she crossed, a firm grip on her staff in case she needed to cast a [Barrier] spell. Intellectually, she knew they're all rigorously built and tested to never go off on accident, but one can never be too careful.
For all the military activity, it certainly didn't stop people from milling about and enjoying the air under the night sky.
Willow walked through the night market, the hood of white cloak (perfectly cleaned of goblin guts) pulled up to ward off the cold.
Manalight and torchlight lit up the street. Hawkers manned their stalls, showing off goods and trinkets carried from far away lands. She even spotted a few merchants she recognized from one of the towns she visited from her past quests.
But the true attractions were the traveling bards, dressed in flamboyant robes and their instruments strummed along dexterous hands.
The Rosarium Kingdom was the land of the arts. Music, dance, and literature, hailing the glories of heroes past, have been its long-fought traditions since its founding by the Great Hero Gram 2,000 years ago. No town under the Rosarium dominion could call itself one without a Bard Street to serenade the devils away.
It was bustling and lively. Every night there were more people than the night before. Hard to believe Risadel used to be a ruin before the Halos Alliance stepped in.
"—and that's only the beginning of the daring exploits of the Azure Dragons! Traveling far across Rosarium, they search of a spear worthy of our blue maiden. Oh, this journey, it's like poetry! They slew demons and creatures beyond mortal reason from sea to sea—"
"—of Nulwiz's monster wave invasion breaking through their Second Wall? The clerics of Providence, hearing the desperate pleas of our heroes, sent their angelic helpers to come and save them from the evil clutches of the Demontide. My friends, it's my solemn duty as a Bard of Rosarium to greet this fair company and woo myself a nun with a strum of my lute. What about my lady friend up north? Bah! She and I—"
"—and that's why your ugly ass is an affront to the eyes of Kyaeris! For as long as you live and walk under the two moons, you better be preparing an excuse when you meet the Goddess up there in heaven about that weird thing you did behind the trees at night. Tell me I'm wrong, I dare you—"
"—how Princess Dovelight's kindness is second only to the Saints of the Holy Garden. I can bet you my hat, and all my songs praising her sweet smile and angelic eyes, that she's the best candidate for the Crowning Selection. Oh, we have a naysayer, I see! I'll have you know that I'm the biggest simpleton of them all! Come on stage and I'll—"
There were comedians. There were storytellers. Each of their voices faded in and out as she passed by, only ever stopping when there was news about the lands outside Rosarium.
Eventually, her feet carried her out of the night market. The noise turned silent behind her, like it was just a distant dream. After all, nobody really wanted to be here. Here, where the barracks and the bell towers rest under the oppressive shadow of the First Wall.
Away from the light.
Into the dark.
The First Wall was the backbone of every coast-side fortress like Risadel. It was massive, as thick as three houses. The stone and brick were hyper-condensed by the finest wizards of the Northern Magic Towers of the Collegium. Further down the river, there was also the Second Wall and Third Wall beyond Risadel proper. The Rosarium Kingdom dedicated no small amount of its treasury to build this place.
The military facilities were built into the First Wall, and on them were a series of platforms and stairwells leading all the way up to the outlook. Willow simply followed the light of the mana stones. They were dim and needed replacing soon, but she could see well enough to go without watching her footing.
It was a long trek up. Leg-breaking for the average person. For Willow, it was like nothing.
When she reached to the top, the world of Crescelias laid out before her.
Up north, Willow could see the proud peaks of the Northern Magic Towers of Collegium. Down south were the Southern Magic Towers of Unitezlan. Beyond the First Wall were the Second and Third Walls in the distance, tall and stalwart, as if escorting the river toward the ends of the earth.
Beyond even them was the sea, vast yet tranquil. It mirrored the twin moons above, dotting the waters with the sublime twinkling of the stars. Willow found herself transfixed, entranced by its beauty.
It was so easy to forget that it was called the Evil Lake for a reason.
It was the origin of all the world's evils. The bane of all mankind. The source of Demontide.
Willow often hung around the top of the First Wall to get away from it all. No adventurers starting fights. No bards to tell their tales. And certainly no Layla moseying in her business.
She figured the atmosphere would help organize thoughts. There were errands to plan. Quests to prepare.
...And her future to decide.
She took a deep breath. The cool, night air that filled her was like a balm to her soul.
Sometimes Willow would stare up at the two moons and wonder, what was the plan? What was the point?
When she reincarnated into this world, there was no meeting with a higher power, no objective for her to follow, no cheat powers to work with. None of the things typical of all the fantasy isekai novels she had read. She was just...born.
Nineteens years in this world, studying, planning, worrying—and she still hadn't figured it out.
Frankly, she's scared there was a 'plot' she's supposed to follow. That's how it's supposed to go, right? There were evil monsters, heroes, a System and everything!
Maybe she's overreacting. Maybe she's nothing special. Or maybe the real Hero was somewhere out there fighting an epic battle, and she just so happened to be the idiot who missed the signs and derailed the plot.
But just in case, she trained to be a White Mage.
Heal and support from the back lines. Meet the growing demands of her skills set. Let the real heroes do the real work.
The ultimate objective of this world was the eradication of the Evil Lake and the Calamities born from within. So if she just waited and kept herself busy, this hypothetical 'plot' will come to her eventually, right? Even if not, she'll still rake in the dough and lead a decent life in retirement.
It was a great plan. The best plan!
But...
"...why does it feel like I'm just withering away here?"
Willow wandered alone atop of the First Wall, thinking, agonizing. It always came in circles. At this point, she only did it to vent and distract herself from the other things in her life.
It wasn't long before she stumbled upon someone.
She saw him first. He was one of the few sources of light on the First Wall's outlook, with a torch on one hand and a spear on the other. When she came up to him, instead of dismissing her or telling her to leave the premises as one might expect, his eyes lit up with recognition and immediately stood straight in a salute.
"Good evening, ma'am. Back from another quest?"
A Lake Watcher. Stiff, serious, dedicated to his job. As a soldier of the Rosarium Kingdom, he wore one of their signature uniforms: a dark blue coat and ensemble with the gilded rose emblem pinned on his chest, signifying his rank and affiliation. The uniform may look frail compared to the studded leathers and plate armor of most adventurers, but Willow could sense the mana flowing through its threads.
"It's the same old," Willow shrugged. "Nothing fun to tell."
The Lake Watcher nodded. "Then my wife's dinner will stay in my stomach tonight."
...Her adventures weren't that bad.
"How about you?" she asked. "Anything happen lately?"
"Nothing to report. The Evil Lake remains quiet on this part of Crescelias, and the Harpoons of the Abyss returned from Sarnaught for their routine resupply as per usual." He paused. "If you were expecting a letter, I'm afraid none of the delivery doves have any addressed to you."
"Right. Same as usual." Willow looked down. "Then who is this?"
On the ground drooling and mumbling to herself like a loon, there was a girl cradling a bottle of wine like it's the most precious thing in the world. Fluffy, triangular ears pressed flat against her blue hair. Her tail and legs were somewhat tucked in under a dusty brown cloak serving as a blanket, forming a ball of drunken bliss. The wolfkin, strangely lanky and soft for her kind, snored, showed a bit of fang, kicked her leg out, mumbled something about cookies and ice cream, and then snored again.
Willow noticed the bronze adventurer's badge pinned to her vest.
"One of the new arrivals, huh?" she muttered. "Wandered far from the guild quarters."
"It would seem so. She suddenly came up to me in a drunken stupor before talking herself into a sleep."
"...Do you mean drinking herself to sleep?"
"I meant what I said, ma'am. I recommend that she seek medical attention." He frowned. "I would do so myself, but leaving my post goes against my duty."
"...Sure." She sighed. "Well, if that's all. I'll take her off your hands and bring her to the guild before she catches a cold or something."
"Thank you." Again, the Lake Watcher saluted. "May the Moons watch you, White Mage."
"...Yeah." The turn of phrase always creeped her out. She tried not to show it. "You, too. Good night, Lake Watcher."
Willow made sure to be careful as she picked up the wolf girl in a princess carry. She's so drunk out of her mind that nothing short of a bomb could wake her up, clinging to the bottle like it's her lifeline. But you never know: there were always accidents with these kinds of people.
Slowly, she turned back the way she came. Across the First Wall. Down the stairs. Into the Bard Street.
It's when the Dragon Tale guild was in sight that it happened.
"Bleeuuugh..."
Willow closed her eyes and held her breath.
The fact that she's so used to it, unfazed by the vomit trailing down her clothes, broke her heart a little.