Before long, the four of them had accepted the mission and left the guild hall after stocking up on supplies and provisions.

  The village of Tirat—the place that posted the notice—was a day’s ride north. Unsure of how one went about booking transportation in this world, Alex let the others lead him to the wide square near the city’s northern gate, where carts, wagons, and caravans gathered before setting out.

  It didn’t take long to find something headed in the right direction.

  A merchant caravan was preparing to leave, a few wagons arranged in a loose line, drivers shouting to one another as they finished loading crates. Rhen approached the man who looked to be in charge and asked whether he would be open to having them join for part of the journey, gesturing back at the three others.

  The caravan leader barely let him finish before shaking his head. “Already hired protection,” he said flatly, jerking a thumb toward a group standing nearby.

  Alex followed the motion and saw them immediately. Another group of adventurers with noticeably better equipment—at least compared to his new companions—was waiting nearby. The bronze badges shining on their chests were also hard to miss.

  ‘Ah, I see.’ Alex suddenly brightened. ‘That makes sense.’

  “Oh, we’re not asking for payment,” Rhen waved his hands, once again apologetic. “We simply need to travel to Tirat and would like to offer our services as payment until we get there. We have our own food and supplies, so all we ask for is a little bit of space in one of the carts.”

  The caravan master hesitated.

  “If we were to prove that we’re stronger than those guys, will you let us come?” Alex jerked his thumb in the other group’s direction.

  “I-” The caravan leader’s words were interrupted by an angry bark of laughter.

  A short, broad dwarf with a beard braided tightly against his chest stomped forward, scowling. “You got a problem with us, boy?”

  Alex shook his head. “No. Just asking a question.”

  “Sounds like an insult,” the dwarf growled.

  “Hey, let’s all calm down, ok?” Rhen hurried over, sending Alex a ‘What the hell are you doing?’ look. The dwarf’s friends also came over to restrain their companion, muttering apologies.

  “Sure, sure.” Alex patted Rhen’s shoulder and stepped around the man, extending a hand to the angry dwarf. “Handshake? Peace?”

  The dwarf bristled, but his companions murmured at him until he relented with a snort. He grabbed Alex’s hand and immediately tightened his grip, knuckles whitening as Alex felt an impressive pressure on his knuckles.

  Alex’s smile sharpened into a vicious grin ‘Gottem.’

  He squeezed back.

  The dwarf’s expression shifted from smug to shocked to agonized in rapid succession. A strangled hiss escaped him as he dropped to one knee.

  “You-” The man’s shocked expression slowly filled with pain.

  “What’s wrong?” Alex asked innocently, ignoring the way the dwarf’s companions had gripped their weapons. “It’s just a friendly handshake.” He added mana to his grip.

  “Wait, wait wait wait,” The dwarf cried out. “I yield—!”

  Alex let him go immediately.

  Silence hung over the group, apart from the dwarf’s quiet groans of pain. While Alex hadn’t quite broken his hand, he would definitely be feeling that for at least a few days.

  ‘Serves the rude fucker right. No one made him pick a fight with me.’ Alex didn’t spare him a glance.

  The caravan leader cleared his throat nervously. “You can ride with us,” he said slowly.

  “Great!” Alex ignored the stares directed his way and pointed at his team. “Can you fit the three of them together? I can keep up on foot, don’t worry.”

  The man had no objections.

  Despite all the excitement, it still took another hour and a half before the caravan was ready to leave, during which Alex was pestered endlessly by his new teammates. The apparent ease with which he’d overpowered the bronze rank dwarf had reignited their disbelief about his rank. It wasn’t until he pointed out that everyone had to start out at Wood, no matter their real strength, that the trio dropped the topic. Instead, they started bugging him about how he got so strong and what he could do. Even Mira, the bitch with the mace, joined in.

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  An hour and a half had never felt so long.

  Thankfully, the caravan set off before his teammates started asking him about his star sign and the colour of his underwear.

  Alex kept his word and walked alongside the caravan rather than riding. With his current physical capabilities, he could run ten miles in just as many minutes and barely be out of breath, much less follow a cart that moved slightly above jogging speed. Plus, he wanted to get as much use out of his new armour as possible.

  The road north of Luterra was wide and well-traveled, packed dirt reinforced by years of carts and foot traffic. The city walls faded behind them surprisingly quickly, replaced by open land and low rolling hills.

  The Bronze-ranked guards rode near the front and rear of the caravan, weapons visible, posture relaxed but alert. Alex caught a few sideways glances from them early on, but no one challenged him again. The dwarf avoided looking at him altogether.

  Good.

  Around midday, the caravan stopped to rest the animals and eat. Alex sat on a low rock a short distance away, still appreciating his newfound ability to be out in the sun. He could feel the heat building beneath the armour, and several people walked up to him to ask if he was ok, but he could manage.

  Worth it.

  They reached Tirat in the late afternoon.

  Dozens of sturdy wooden buildings clustered along packed-earth streets, their layouts orderly. Low fences marked property lines, and well-worn footpaths cut between homes, workshops, and storehouses. Smoke rose steadily from chimneys across the settlement, carrying the mingled scents of cooking grain, woodfire, and livestock.

  As the caravan rolled into some sort of main square, the village slowed around it. People paused in doorways or along the street, watching with cautious interest. There was wariness in their expressions, but also relief—at least once they noticed the adventurers dismounting among the wagons.

  Alex felt their eyes linger on him longer than the others.

  ‘Probably the armour.’ He inflated his chest and stood a little straighter.

  The caravan master waved them goodbye before directing his wagons onward. The Bronze guards followed, still giving Alex a wide berth. The dwarf shot him one last venomous glare before disappearing behind a cart.

  Good riddance.

  The village mayor hurried out of the largest building in the square. Contrary to Alex’s expectations, he was a broad-shouldered man with greying hair and severe lines carved into his face by sun and time. He looked more like a warrior than the mayor of some random village.

  The mayor stopped a few paces in front of them, eyes moving quickly over the group. His gaze flickered over Alex’s sealed armour and helmet before settling back into something neutral.

  “Are you here for the request we sent to the guild?” He asked.

  Rhen stepped forward immediately. “Yes, sir. Here for the kobold extermination.”

  The man nodded once. “Good. I’m Theros, the mayor here. Come inside. We should talk before it gets dark.”

  They followed him into the building behind him, which turned out to be the mayor’s office. The space was modest but well-kept. A sturdy desk sat near the centre, its surface cluttered with ledgers, loose papers, and a few half-empty ink pots. Shelves lined the walls, holding records, sealed jars, and the odd personal item that hinted at long hours spent working there. A couple of maps were pinned to a corkboard in the corner, their edges curled from repeated handling.

  Theros gestured for them to sit, then poured water from a clay jug into four cups and slid them across the table.

  “I’ll be direct,” he said, settling opposite them. “We’ve had trouble with kobolds for just over a month. At first it was theft. Tools, grain, anything left unattended near the forest. We thought it was just some thieves, or a misbehaving group of delinquents.”

  He paused, jaw tightening.

  “Then the traps started appearing. Snares on game trails. Pits near the outer farms. Two people got caught. Both survived, but only because others were close enough to pull them out.”

  “I don’t really know much about Kobolds,” Alex openly admitted. “What do you mean by traps? Could you elaborate on what Kobolds are like?”

  “I can answer that.” Joras suddenly spoke up, taking over the conversation. “The first thing you should know is that Kobolds never attack head on. In fact, in a straight up fight, you would struggle to find a weaker monster. Even a regular goblin could beat one quite handily.”

  Alex leaned back in surprise. Considering how weak goblins already were… “Then how can they even survive as a species? Surely, they’d all die out?”

  “That’s where the bad news starts.” The man nodded again. “As if to compensate for their lack of physical prowess, while Kobolds are exceptionally stupid, they are rather gifted in setting up traps. From what I know, it’s not even a matter of them doing it on purpose. Just like how beavers like to build dams for fun, so do Kobolds build traps. While this means that the majority of their traps are useless due to location, it also means that real Kobold dens are a nightmare to clear.”

  “Fortunately, this problem is nowhere near that scale.” The mayor rejoined the conversation. From our estimation, based on the amount of food stolen and the frequency of trap encounters, there should be no more than a dozen Kobolds in this group.”

  “Do you know where their lair is?” Rhen asked.

  “Not precisely,” Theros admitted. He reached for one of the maps pinned to the board and pulled it down, spreading it across the desk. Several areas were marked with charcoal lines and crude symbols. “But based on where the traps start and where the food disappeared, it should be somewhere in this stretch of forest. Two, maybe three hours’ walk from the village if you don’t take detours.”

  Alex studied the map. ‘What am I even looking for? It’s just a map. All I see is a forest.’

  “Great.” Rhen also leaned back from the map. “In that case I guess we’ll set out in the morning. We’re rather tired, and wandering into a Kobold lair in the dark isn’t the safest activity.”

  “What?” Mari suddenly complained. “We gotta wait another day?”

  “Yes, Mari, we do.” Joras grunted. “Unless you’re eager to find out what happens when you fall into a pit trap lined with shit covered spikes”

  That shut her up.

  “Very well.” The mayor agreed with their assessment. “In that case, would you like to rest here? The building has several guest rooms for such occasions, though you’re free to go stay at the inn instead, if you want.”

  “No, that’s fine.” Rhen quickly replied. “Sorry for imposing on you.”

  The mayor waved it off and stood, motioning for them to follow. He led them down a short corridor branching off from the office, stopping in front of a row of simple wooden doors.

  “Nothing fancy,” he said. “But they’re clean, and they lock.”

  He opened one and gestured inside.

  The room was small but serviceable. A narrow bed, a chair, a washbasin. That was it. Alex stepped in, setting his pack down by the wall. The others also picked their own rooms, muttering quiet ‘good night’s to each other.

  “Once again, thank you for coming out to help us.” The mayor said from the doorway.

  Alex nodded, closing the door behind him.