After a thrilling (and highly unworthy-of-being-recorded-in-the-history-of-civilization) encounter with a cabbage monster named Gul-Gul, I made a decision:
"Okay. I can't use magic. I can't fight. But… I can get revenge using MY BRAIN."
Then I remembered—I don't even know how to harvest wheat without burning the whole field down.
So, the plan changed:
Find help.
I returned to the farmer's house, covered in mud and a shattered ego.
"Sir, I know what's been killing your crops and laughing at 2 a.m."
The old farmer stared at me.
"Are you… alright, Miss?"
"It's… a cabbage monster. His name is Gul-Gul. it… it has tentacles and… um… maybe some trauma."
The farmer looked at me like I'd just said I could hear potatoes debating politics.
"A cabbage?"
"Yes."
"And it… attacked you?"
"Yeah. With rolled-up leaves. I almost became a salad."
The farmer furrowed his brows, then looked toward Valmor, who was standing a few meters behind me, nodding solemnly… with the expression of a horse retiring from the world of cinema.
"He can talk too," I added quickly. "Valmor. The horse. He called me a dumb knight because my sword is just for display."
Valmor let out a dramatic sigh.
"That's because you've never sharpened it. Did you buy your sword from a souvenir shop?"
"See? He talked!"
The farmer squinted, then looked me dead in the eye.
"Miss… the horse… didn't talk."
"WHAT?!"
"It's just… a horse. A regular horse. And you seem to have been in the sun too long."
"BUT HE TALKED. HE SAID HE'S A GOD-HORSE. MADE FOR HEROES. AND THEN—"
"Alright, alright, let's sit down. You need water. Maybe… a doctor."
Valmor chuckled behind me. Not an evil laugh. More like a patronizing one.
"Now who's the crazy one?"
I glared at him.
"Useless horse. Arrogant, and refuses to be ridden."
"Not my fault you failed the aura test. I have standards."
And so, with my self-worth buried deeper than potatoes and my reputation comparable to rotting mushrooms, I returned to the Guild.
Bruised.
Disheveled.
And maybe smelling slightly of cabbage.
Liora, the receptionist who always looked like a human-shaped Excel file, raised an eyebrow as I handed in the mission report.
"What seems to be the issue?"
"Cabbage. Monster. Has a name. Gul-Gul."
"...Cabbage?"
"Yes."
"And you were defeated by… a failed salad?"
"He had tentacles."
"Of course it did."
I dropped my head onto the desk.
"I want… trauma compensation. Or at least a meal voucher."
Liora jotted something down.
"We'll file this as… 'psychological damage due to contact with mystical vegetables.' Takes three days."
"Will I get money?"
"No."
"..."
And just like that.
I—Aria—the existential knight and victim of this cruel new world, am now officially registered as the first person to lose a fight to a vegetable.
Valmor?
Still in the field.
Probably watching the sunset while waiting for "the Hero" who may or may not ever come.
And me?
Still can't use magic.
Still can't fight.
But I can complain.
And sometimes, that's enough.