“Eryndor!”


    A familiar voice called out from behind me. I turned to see Orin, running toward me with an eager expression. I raised a hand in greeting.


    “Hey,” I replied casually.


    “How was your adventure? It’s good to see you back in one piece.” Orin panted slightly, still catching her breath.


    I smiled, but before I could respond, her eyes widened in excitement.


    “Whoa—your antlers! They’ve grown a little, haven’t they?” she asked enthusiastically.


    Instinctively, my fingers brushed against the small, budding antlers on my head. A druid’s antlers were a direct manifestation of their power—the larger and more radiant they were, the stronger the druid.


    “Well, well. It seems I’ve been making progress,” I mused.


    “Now, about that promise—you said you’d pay me back after our exploration.” I smirked, reminding her of the wager she had made before we entered the Tower.


    “Wow, Eryndor—behave!” she feigned exasperation, rolling her eyes, and chuckled. “I haven’t even had time to breathe yet! Let’s regroup first—then I’ll treat you to a meal.”


    I stretched my arms with a grin. “It’s been far too long since I had a decent meal.” Then, with a teasing glint in my eye, I added, “I hope you have enough Mana Stones.”


    ***


    At exactly midday on the 26th day, the Tower would close its doors, forcing every adventurer inside to return to the city. However, despite spending what felt like weeks inside, only a single day would have passed outside.


    The flow of time within the Tower was fundamentally different from that of the outside world. One hour in the city equated to an entire day inside the Tower. And since adventurers could only enter on the first day of the month, it meant that today was already the second day in the city.


    Every adventurer would be forcibly teleported back to the city’s central plaza, where the Tower stood. Luckily, I had emerged not too far from my group’s previous rendezvous point.


    We made our way toward our team’s meeting spot, where instructor Vallen would be waiting. It took no more than fifteen minutes before I spotted her—a tall, imposing figure wrapped in a deep crimson robe, a signature of her.


    Her expression was stern, but I could see faint traces of worry on her face as she scanned the area, searching for the druids under her command.


    Orin, still brimming with excitement, rushed ahead—but just as she neared instructor Vallen—


    Thud!


    A burly, rat-faced man deliberately shouldered into her, nearly knocking her off balance.


    “Well, well, well… Look who we have here,” the brute sneered, his beady eyes locking onto mine with mocking amusement.


    I instantly recognized him. One of the fuckers.


    And as if summoned, his sleazy, wiry companion stepped forward—a man named Fletcher, an archer known for his sharp tongue and smug arrogance.


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    “Hey, Fletcher,” he grinned, nudging him. “Why don’t you say hello to our little friend?”


    Fletcher smirked. “Oh? Looks like our dear little druid found himself a girlfriend,” he jeered. His sharp gaze flickered to Orin before settling back on me. “Hey, nerdy wizard, maybe you should take some notes from him.”


    The wizard in their group—clearly just as despised by the archer as we were—shot Fletcher a cold, hateful glare but said nothing.


    Before I could reply, I felt a heavy weight settle on my shoulder.


    A large, muscular man had placed a thick, calloused hand on me, pressing down with deliberate force. It was their leader, the muscular warrior—a towering figure, grinning wickedly as he applied pressure.


    “How’s your head, huh?” he taunted, his grip tightening. “Next time, maybe you should stay in the forest—where you belong, with your little deer friends.” The others laughed cruelly, reveling in their own mockery.


    “L-Leave us alone!” Orin snapped, her voice trembling, her fists clenched at her sides. The rat-face guy grinned maliciously. “Shut your mouth, bitch,” he spat, shoving Orin roughly.


    I felt my anger surge. My hands balled into fists, but before I could respond—


    “Hey!” A sharp, commanding voice cut through the tension. It was instructor Vallen. She strode toward us, her crimson robes billowing behind her. Her tone was firm, authoritative. “Enough. Leave them alone. I’ve already called the Royal Guard.”


    Guz snorted, eyes flashing with contempt.


    “Well, well. Look who it is. The mother deer has arrived,” he mocked, his massive frame turning toward instructor Vallen. “Think I’m scared of you?” Guz smirked, cracking his knuckles. “Get lost before I snap those cursed antlers of yours.”


    Without hesitation, Orin and I moved closer to Vallen—safety lay in numbers.


    Fletcher chuckled, tossing a piece of trash in our direction as we walked away. “Take care of your girlfriend. I heard druid girls scream loudly.”


    I stopped in my tracks. I turned slowly. And then, with a deliberate smirk, I met their gaze and asked, “Tell me… did you enjoy the bonfire I prepared for you?”


    Silence.


    I let my words sink in before adding, my tone dripping with mockery, “Thanks to you all, I feel incredibly lucky back then.”


    Guz’s face twisted with rage. He definitely knew what I meant.


    His skin flushed red, veins bulging along his thick neck. His teeth clenched, eyes burning with raw fury.


    “You little shit,” he growled. “I challenge you to a duel!”


    ***


    Dueling was an ancient tradition in the Kingdom of Asterion.


    Though brawls were strictly forbidden within city limits, adventurers were allowed to settle disputes formally through a sanctioned duel. Once both parties agreed, the match would be officially recorded and witnessed by the Royal Guard.


    The rules were simple: The fight continued until one of the duelists could no longer fight—or until death.


    Instructor Vallen whirled on me, her expression fierce.


    “Eryndor Leafshade! This is reckless!” she hissed, clearly furious.


    I placed a calm hand on instructor Vallen’s  shoulder. “Relax, instructor.” Then, turning to the challenger, I responded smoothly, “Fine. But only if you’re willing to wager your warhammer.”


    He grinned savagely. “Oh, don’t worry,” he sneered. “After this, I’ll be taking everything you own.”


    The Royal Guard stepped forward, recording the duel’s terms before raising a hand, channeling a spell. A large, translucent barrier erupted around us—a shimmering dome of energy, enclosing both me and Guz inside.


    Its purpose was clear.


    To contain our battle—ensuring no harm befell the spectators outside.


    The Royal Guard’s voice rang out, “Eryndor Leafshade and Guz Winston! Take your positions!”


    Beyond the barrier, instructor Vallen’s face creased with worry. She had warned me repeatedly not to do this—and yet, I ignored her. Orin looked close to tears, terror written all over her face. The other young druids whispered anxiously amongst themselves.


    Their fear was justified.


    Druids specialized in support magic. They fought from a distance, using nature’s power to heal, enhance, and protect.


    And I was about to face a brute-force warrior in direct combat.


    By all logic—this should have been my certain defeat.