Monster Evolution System: I became a Rat-Chapter 93: First Adventure

With the light slowly dimming, both of them tried to rotate and keep moving. The monster in front was not going anywhere, it seemed, and the forest would become far more dangerous at night.

Rosacer moved toward the right through the tree canopy, with Gringha following behind him on the ground. They stopped, turned, and shifted directions repeatedly to avoid monsters that wandered their way. It took more time than they expected, but eventually both of them reached the end of the forest and stood in front of the gate, the entrance to Kial’s farm.

"I will be going back to Vermis. Meet me at Fabio’s Tavern tomorrow morning," Gringha said.

Rosacer gave no reply as he walked forward. Gringha did not wait for one either and took the path toward Vermis.

For a second, Rosacer turned to see which path Gringha would take, but it was already too late. He had vanished without a trace.

Rosacer sighed and whispered to himself, "Thank you for your help."

He then walked forward toward the group of farmers anxiously waiting beside sacks of hay mixed with poisonous plants.

As he approached, they noticed him, and in their eyes lingered an unspoken question. Quickly, some of them ran toward him. When they reached him, they asked, "What happened, Rosacer sir?"

Rosacer shook his head firmly and replied in a hoarse voice, "It’s done."

The crowd erupted into a joyous flurry. People began dancing, chanting Rosacer’s name as they celebrated.

Soon, an old man approached with a pouch filled to the brim, tightly bound, and offered it to Rosacer. "Your payment, adventurer," the old man said as he stepped forward and embraced him.

Rosacer took the payment and shoved it inside his coat, eventually storing it in his inventory, then accepted the old man’s hug.

"I will stay for the night and leave tomorrow morning, Chief," Rosacer said to the old man.

The old farmer shook his head as he guided Rosacer toward the hugely lit bonfire. The flames emitted an unusual amount of smoke, and the people around it were acting strangely. They looked lethargic, smiling as if they were lost in the bliss of their lives.

Rosacer paused for a second as he looked toward the old man who was holding him.

"Don’t worry, adventurer. It’s safe. It’s the poppy fire. Just enjoy the night," the old man said without turning toward Rosacer.

Rosacer did not resist much, for the system was already alerting him that his Foulborn title was turning the toxins into elixir, revitalizing him. The wounds from his earlier fight were also beginning to heal slowly.

As this happened, he thought he should equip himself with some poison too. That way, he could use them as potions.

"Maybe later... I will ask them for some poisonous herbs," he muttered to himself as he joined the group around the bonfire.

Morning arrived slowly over Kial’s farm, the sun creeping over the mist-soaked fields like a reluctant witness. The scent of last night’s poppy fire still lingered faintly in the air, mixing with the earthy smell of damp soil and harvested crops. A few farmers were already awake, tending to livestock with sluggish movements, as if their bodies still carried remnants of the narcotic haze.

Rosacer stepped out of the wooden guest shed they had prepared for him. His coat hung loosely over his shoulders, and he flexed his fingers once, testing the stiffness in his joints. The healing from his Foulborn title had done its work. The deeper wounds had sealed, leaving only faint soreness behind.

His gaze drifted toward the center of the farm, where a few bundles of dried plants hung from wooden racks. Some of them he recognized instantly from the scent alone.

Poison.

"Useful poison."

The old farmer, Chief Kial, stood near a water trough, feeding handfuls of grain to a cluster of nervous-looking hens. His weathered back was hunched, but his hands moved with steady precision.

Rosacer approached him quietly.

"Chief," he called out.

The old man turned, his lined face breaking into a warm smile. "Ah, the hero of the night. You slept well, adventurer?"

"Well enough," Rosacer replied. His eyes flicked toward the drying racks. "I wanted to ask... about your herbs."

The chief followed his gaze and chuckled knowingly.

"You noticed, did you? Most travelers do not pay attention to such things."

"I have... uses for them," Rosacer said carefully.

The old man wiped his hands on his coarse tunic before walking toward the racks. He pulled down a small bundle of dark purple stems and another of brittle grey leaves.

"Poppy husk, duskshade leaf, and a bit of marrow thorn," the chief explained. "Farmers here use them to keep pests away. Too much of it, though... it turns the mind soft."

Rosacer nodded, studying the plants with quietness.

"I would like to buy some," he said.

The chief waved a dismissive hand. "After what you did for us, you can take a small bundle. Just do not blame me if you start seeing your ancestors dancing in the sky."

Rosacer allowed the faintest hint of a smile. "I doubt they would be pleased to see me."

The chief laughed heartily and handed him a wrapped cloth pouch filled with carefully measured herbs.

Rosacer slipped the bundle inside his coat and, moments later, into his inventory. The familiar, subtle pulse of the system confirmed successful storage.

"I will be leaving now," Rosacer said, adjusting his collar.

"Safe travels, adventurer. Vermis is calmer than these outskirts, but calm places hide sharp teeth."

Rosacer gave a small nod before turning toward the dirt road leading away from the farm.

The journey to Vermis took several hours. The towering walls of the city rose from the horizon like a weathered fortress carved from ash-grey stone. Guards stood near the gate, their armor reflecting the midday sun in dull glints.

Rosacer passed through without incident.

Many of the guards on duty were different from the last time he entered the city.

The guild hall of Khamosh stood near the mercantile district, its blackwood doors carved with faded runic patterns. The name hung above the entrance in tarnished bronze letters in Ermanji.

Inside, the guild bustled with the usual controlled chaos. Adventurers argued over contracts, clerks shuffled parchment stacks, and the faint smell of ink and metal filled the air.

Rosacer walked toward the counter.

The counter lady, a woman with sharp eyes and neatly tied silver-blonde hair, looked up from her ledger as he approached. Her name badge read Selpha.

"You’re back quickly," she remarked with a hint of sarcasm. "That usually means things went well."

Rosacer placed a parchment and a monster shell onto the counter.

He earlier took the signed document from Chief Kial for confirmation.

"Nasreen Stinger eliminated. Kial’s farm secured," he said.

Selpha pulled the documents closer, her eyes scanning rapidly. Her fingers moved with mechanical efficiency as she stamped verification marks and scribbled annotations.

"Witness confirmation?" she asked.

"Gringha was present."

She paused briefly, raising an eyebrow. "Then I assume the report is accurate."

She slid a secondary ledger toward Rosacer.

"Sign here. Standard completion acknowledgment."

Rosacer signed without hesitation.

Selpha nodded and stamped the page with a heavy iron seal. The dull thud echoed slightly through the hall.

"Report filed. Additional hazard bonus will be transferred to your account by evening," she said, already reaching for another stack of documents.

Rosacer gave a short nod. "Thank you."

"You are welcome. Try not to die before your next assignment. Paperwork becomes inconvenient."

Fabio’s Tavern sat along a crowded crossroad near the western trade quarter. The building leaned slightly to one side as if it had grown tired of standing upright decades ago. Laughter, music, and the clatter of mugs spilled through its open windows.

Inside, the tavern glowed with amber lantern light. The scent of roasted meat, spilled ale, and sweat formed a dense, familiar haze.

Rosacer’s eyes scanned the room once.

He found Gringha immediately.

The man sat alone near a corner table, spinning a dagger slowly across his knuckles with practiced ease. A half-finished mug rested beside him, untouched for several minutes judging by the thin foam ring drying along its edge.

Rosacer approached and took the seat across from him.

Gringha stopped spinning the dagger but did not look up immediately.

"You filed the report," he said casually.

"Yes."

Gringha finally lifted his gaze. His eyes were narrower than usual, studying Rosacer as if measuring something unseen.

"You look healthier."

"The poppy smoke helped."

Gringha snorted softly. "Farmers and their remedies."

A tavern server approached, placing a fresh mug in front of Rosacer without asking. Adventurers were predictable customers.

Gringha leaned back slightly, crossing his arms.

"So," he said, "what is your next plan?"

Rosacer lifted the mug but did not drink immediately. The surface of the ale reflected the lantern light in trembling golden ripples.

"More contracts," Rosacer replied. "Stronger monsters. Better rewards."

Gringha watched him carefully, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Good," he said. "Because the next job I have in mind... is not something farmers will celebrate with dancing."

Rosacer finally took a slow drink.

The tavern noise swelled around them, but the space between the two hunters grew strangely quiet, heavy with unspoken anticipation.

Gringha placed the dagger flat on the table.

"You interested?"

Rosacer set the mug down.

"Tell me everything," he said.