The oak doors of the Marina Tavern swung open, and in stepped a tall, burly middle-aged adventurer. A cross-shaped longsword hung at his waist, and he was decked out in Gorgon leather armor.
He kept his steps light, weaving through the noisy tavern crowd like he didn't want to be noticed by the adventurers chugging drinks and having a blast. Even though he kept his head down and squeezed sideways past two waitresses carrying trays, trying to play it cool, his beefy frame still caught everyone's eye.
"Hey, isn't that 'Shield of the Mage,' 'Magic Caster's Buddy' Barrett Monde?" a brown-bearded adventurer yelled out, staring right at his face and making a big scene.
"'Shield of the Mage,' my ass! He's 'Imperial Chief Eunuch' Barrett now! Hahaha!" Another adventurer busted out laughing with no shame, winking at Barrett as he said, "Come on, Barrett, I'll buy you a drink! Spill the beans on your story!"
Most of the tavern erupted in laughter. Clearly, Barrett's tale was already the talk of the town—no need for him to tell it again.
A few newbie adventurers who'd just rolled into town couldn't wait to ask around about Barrett's deal. After hearing the story from others, they shot pitying looks at Barrett's lower half, smirking all the while.
Barrett's face turned beet red, rage burning inside him, but he was powerless to do a damn thing.
Five days ago, things were different. Adventurers and clients were still calling him "Shield of the Mage" like old pals. But after he took a job to hunt down a double-headed lizard and stepped into River Fra, everything went to hell—he lost the one thing that makes a man a man.
River Fra was a shallow stream on the edge of Mistwood, so shallow the deepest part only reached Barrett's waist.
For a Mithril-rank elite adventurer like him, with nearly twenty years in the game, River Fra was just a shitty little ditch. Yet, that tiny ditch flipped his whole life upside down.
Barrett had been leading a squad of adventurers, planning to wade through River Fra on foot to get into Mistwood. Based on his experience crossing it forty or fifty times, he figured River Fra was totally safe right then.
For one, the water was shallow. For two, the riverbed was hard dirt and pebbles—no way your feet would sink in.
Most importantly, there were no dangerous monsters in the river. Sure, green-scaled short-snout crocs lived there, but it was early fall—by now, they'd all migrated down River Fra to spawn in the distant Gar Lake.
Every adventurer scrapping it out near Mistwood knew this like the back of their hand, so Barrett led his crew into River Fra without a care in the world.
What he never could've guessed, though, was that downstream, a village had built a new dam this summer, blocking the crocs' migration route. So when his team waded through River Fra, four or five green-scaled short-snout crocs ambushed them.
Lucky for them, nobody got death-rolled and killed. A half-elf took a bite to the foot, and a mage apprentice lost his left hand.
Barrett wished he'd just lost a hand too. But the croc that went for him? It was lurking in the murky water and got creative—snuck up between his legs and chomped down with its gaping jaws, nailing the hit.
Even though Barrett fought like hell with his slick Martial Art skills and barely escaped with his life, he still lost that thing down below—and with it, his pride as a man.
Strictly speaking, this mess wasn't Barrett's fault—just a case of bad intel. If any adventurer from Montell City had led the way, they'd have gotten jumped by those green-scaled short-snout crocs that couldn't migrate out. Barrett taking the lead and wading into the middle of the river, being the first to get hit, actually saved the whole team from a bloodbath.
The other adventurers didn't doubt Barrett's skills over it, but adventurers as a group? They're not big on sympathy—they love a good laugh at someone else's expense.
Before long, nicknames like "Imperial Chief Eunuch" and "Castrated Barrett" were spreading like wildfire among the adventurers in Montell City.
Nicknames aren't like your given name. Your parents pick your name, and if you don't like it, you can change it. But nicknames? You're stuck with whatever people decide to call you.
With his killer combat skills and years of seasoned adventuring, Barrett had protected over a dozen Magic Casters on his journeys, earning him titles like "Shield of the Mage" and "Magic Caster's Buddy."
Back then, he ate those nicknames up like candy. Now that folks wanted to switch them to "Imperial Chief Eunuch" and "Buff Eunuch," there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.
Barrett's face darkened as he fought the urge to yank out his sword and slice up a few of the loudest-laughing, whiskey nosed adventurers. With jeers and chuckles ringing around him, he stormed toward the tavern counter.
He planned to grab the prepaid cash he'd left at the Marina Tavern for his regular drinking, then ditch Montell City for some nowhere town where nobody knew his face. He'd start his adventuring life over, save up a fat stack of coins, and find a Divine Magic Caster to fix his lower half!
That kind of spell would fall under "limb regrowth"—not cheap by any stretch. Plus, the green-scaled short-snout croc's teeth had venom in them. The healer who patched him up said low-tier magic was barely keeping the poison from spreading, and flushing it out completely would take some high-tier stuff.
At least the tavern receptionist kept it professional, not joining the drunken crowd in their belly laughs. She just gave Barrett a look dripping with pity and sympathy.
Barrett kept heading for the counter when he suddenly felt someone staring right at him.
Sure, he was the star of this tavern's clown show right now, with every eye glued to him. But with his years of adventuring under his belt, Barrett could still pick out one gaze that felt different from the rest.
He turned his head and locked eyes with the person staring him down.
It was a short-haired girl sitting alone in the corner of the tavern. Her ear-length black hair was combed neat as a pin, standing out like a sore thumb. She wore a prim, no-nonsense linen black outfit with a rough gray wool shawl draped over her shoulders.
Her old-school, stiff getup, paired with that serious look on her face, gave off a vibe of someone way older than she was—like she didn't belong among the rowdy adventurers in the tavern.
The only adventurer-like thing about her was the oversized giant sword strapped to her back, way too big for her size.
With Barrett's years of reading people, he could tell this girl wasn't old, and she didn't look like a cleric or a nun either.
Most girls her age were all about looking cute, dolling themselves up with bright colors. Even a dirt-poor farmer's daughter would stick a wildflower in her hair.
But this girl, sitting ramrod straight, was like some ancient nun who'd spent her life guarding a shrine—stuffy and stuck in the past.
She kept staring at Barrett, then gave a little nod, like she was pleased with something.
If Barrett were five or six years younger, he might've thought she was into his tall, ripped build or his rugged, weathered face. But now? He could see her sizing him up like a housewife at the market, picking out the best duck or goose.
A weird, uneasy feeling hit him. Barrett shook his head to shake it off and turned his eyes back to the tavern receptionist.
At a table nearby, some jackass adventurer reached out with a sleazy grin to grope Barrett's crotch. Barrett shoved him off, pissed, clamping his legs together as he stomped toward the counter.
Suddenly, a figure blocked his view. Barrett froze, then looked down and saw her—the black-clad, gray-shawled girl who'd been staring at him from the tavern's edge.
But she'd been sitting way out by the wall, five tables and a noisy crowd of adventurers away. How the hell did she pop up right in front of him? Magic? Martial Art? Barrett's guard went up.
The short-haired girl was a head shorter than him. She tilted her head up to meet his eyes and stuck out a hand all proper-like, like she wanted to shake.
She introduced herself: "Hello, young man. My name is EeDeChi. I think you're a good person. How about being my guide?"