Weeks had passed, and still—nothing.
I found myself checking it more than usual, swiping my hand in the air whenever I was alone. "Guardian Screen," I'd mutter under my breath, hoping for some kind of quest. Something. Anything.
But the screen would just appear, faintly glowing in that signature blue light, showing the same mystery it always had:
LEVEL: ???
RACE: ???
POWER: ???
The only thing that ever changed was my gold count—thankfully increasing with every day I sold items at the dungeon stall. My earnings had steadily grown. Between the enchanted noodles, the water bottles, the mamon, and the new experimental deodorant satchels, adventurers were practically lining up each morning before heading into the dungeon. Some even called me "The Alchemist Vendor," though I wasn't sure if it was a compliment or just because they couldn't figure out how the hell my products worked.
And while the gold was great—I mean really great—deep inside, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off.
The last quest had been big. The Map of the Divine Tree wasn't some minor reward. If Agnes was right, it was the kind of artefact people would kill for. And ever since then, it has been like the GUARDIAN had shut itself off. Silent. Watching.
I focused on my goals—taking care of Ella, Elvie, Kael, Sylphie, Igor, and even Miss Agnes. This little group... They were my new family. A small mismatched bunch, yes, but it gave me a sense of purpose.
Still, the rumours about me were starting to spread like wildfire through the adventurer circles. Whispers about a human selling enchanted items. Talks of water that could heal minor wounds. Bread that restored mana. Even the deodorant was rumoured to grant temporary charm buffs—ridiculous, but hilarious.
And with rumours came attention.
Too much attention.
I'd catch strange glances sometimes. See new faces hanging around longer than they needed to. A few even tried questioning me about where I got my supplies.
That's when the worry really started to settle in.
I kept checking the screen every night before bed, whispering under my breath like a desperate player waiting for their next main questline.
"Come on... give me something."
But the screen stayed quiet.
And that silence was beginning to feel a lot louder than I liked.
Little did I know, my success was about to draw even more attention... including from powerful nobles who wanted a piece of my growing business.
*****
The grand council chamber of the Elven Kingdom was tense with unease. The polished marble floors reflected the flickering candlelight from golden chandeliers, and the air was thick with the scent of burning incense. The high priest Hector, draped in his ceremonial golden robes, sat at the head of the long oak table, his brows furrowed in deep thought. Beside him, Saint Athena, her pristine white robes adorned with silver embroidery, listened intently, her golden eyes sharp as a hawk's.
Before them sat the Council of Elders, a gathering of the kingdom's wisest minds. The atmosphere was solemn.
"Our summoning ritual was a failure." High Priest Hector's voice was low, but it carried a weight of disappointment. "Months ago, we poured our finest magic into the ancient circle, yet no hero was summoned."
An elder with a long silver beard cleared his throat. "Perhaps the summoning was incomplete. Could it be that the hero arrived in a place unknown to us?"
"Impossible," scoffed another elder. "If a hero had appeared, the land itself would have trembled with their arrival. The runes glowed but then faded. We should consider the ritual a complete failure."
Athena tapped her fingers lightly on the table, deep in thought. "And yet... our need for a hero grows more dire."
The room fell silent. They all knew the truth—the Demon Lord had awakened.
The reports were grim. Demon forces had begun their march, their monstrous soldiers creeping into the borders of human and dwarven lands. Worse yet, rebellion among the four species—the elves, dwarves, beastkin, and humans—was bubbling beneath the surface. The kingdom was on the brink of chaos.
Saint Athena's silver brows drew together as she exhaled slowly, her hands resting atop the long scroll she had been studying. The flickering candlelight cast shadows across the marble table of the Elven council chamber.
"If we cannot summon a hero," she said, her voice echoing with quiet conviction, "then we must strengthen our forces another way. Either we find the Divine Tree... or we must produce more magical enhancement stones for our knights and soldiers."
A silence settled over the room. The nobles and high-ranking mages seated around the long table exchanged uncertain glances. Some nodded, others remained still, their expressions carved with doubt.
"But there is a problem," High Priest Hector said solemnly. He folded his aged hands in front of him, fingertips lightly tapping together. "Mithril."
Athena's face tightened. "Of course," she murmured. "Always come back to mithril."
The murmuring began again around the table, more anxious this time. Mithril—the rare, silver-blue metal essential for forging magical conductors and enhancement stones—has become scarce in recent years. Mines were yielding less. Some were even believed to have dried up entirely. Worse, black-market trade and underground auctions were driving prices higher than the royal treasury could keep up with.
"Our current stockpile will barely last a month if we continue at our current rate of production," Hector added gravely. "And if we push further, the kingdom's alchemical division may collapse entirely."
A younger council mage leaned forward. "Can we not import more? Perhaps from the Dwarfin Kingdom?"
Athena shook her head. "The dwarves have begun hoarding it for their own war preparations. Trade lines have all but shut down."
"Even those humans and mages have begun hoarding their supplies from the dungeon as well," an elder added. "And without mithril, we cannot produce the stones fast enough to match the demon army's numbers."
Just then, one of the elders—an elf with keen, perceptive eyes—leaned forward. "I have heard... whispers."
Athena raised an eyebrow. "What kind of whispers?"
The elder clasped his hands together. "A merchant in an outskirts' town—one who sells products that seem to enhance mana."
A murmur rippled through the chamber.
"Impossible," scoffed a counsellor. "No merchant possesses that kind of magic."
"Yet, the rumours persist," the elder continued. "Servants and soldiers alike speak of water that refreshes one's mana and bread so soft and rich it invigorates the body. Some nobles have already begun acquiring these goods in bulk."
Saint Athena narrowed her eyes. "You're suggesting that this merchant may have access to enhancement magic?"
"Perhaps," the elder admitted. "At the very least, his goods are extraordinary enough to warrant an investigation."
Hector exhaled, rubbing his temple. "If these rumours are true, then we must secure him before the Demon Lord's forces do."
Athena stood from her seat, her golden hair cascading down her back like a river of sunlight. "I will go myself."
The council stiffened at her words.
"My Lady Saint," Hector said cautiously, "Do you think this merchant could be..." He hesitated, then continued, "...the hero we summoned?"
A smirk played on Athena's lips. "If he is, then we must bring him to the capital—whether he wishes to come or not."
The high priest sighed but nodded. "Very well. Take a small unit of holy knights with you. We must be discreet."