One Month Later
After taking out two reckless hilichurls who came charging at me with their usual screeching, I closed the gap between myself and the last one standing — a hydro abyss mage. One sweeping slash of my spear was enough to shatter his elemental shield and take his head clean off.
The bastard's water spells had been a real pain. Luckily, they weren't particularly fast, so after a bit of practice, I'd learned to time my movements just right. I dealt with his backup crew first — a pack of armed hilichurls swinging clubs like they knew what they were doing — and then circled back to finish off the mage himself.
Rimuru didn't do much in the actual fight. Instead, he kept watch, making sure the crossbow-wielding hilichurls lurking nearby didn't surprise me with any anatomy-altering projectiles.
Over the last two weeks, native activity had picked up significantly. And it wasn't just the numbers. I'd been seeing more and more advanced fighters in the mix — ones armed with real weapons, not just sticks and rocks. Crossbows had practically become standard issue. Every group now had at least one mitachurl, usually backed by a pair of shamans — or worse, a full-fledged abyss mage. And if you ask me, those guys were way more dangerous than any oversized brute with an axe.
Thankfully, this time I got lucky. If I'd run into a pyro or cryo mage instead, the cleanup would've taken a lot more time — and a lot more effort.
In response to the surge in attacks, the Knights of Favonius had joined forces with the Adventurers' Guild and launched a large-scale operation to wipe out hilichurl camps across the region. A few major strongholds to the northwest — where most of the raids had been coming from — had already been destroyed.
I stayed out of the main campaign, though. Personal reasons. I preferred doing my own extermination runs solo, away from the noise and bureaucracy, with only my increasingly powerful, round companion for company.
"That should be the last of them," I muttered, scanning the battlefield. Rimuru let out a series of satisfied gurgles from his perch on my shoulder.
With the usual post-fight routine done — gathering up masks and synthesis shards from the bodies — I shivered as a chill breeze hit me from behind. Locals said Mondstadt winters weren't like the harsh, freezing ones I was used to. More like a drawn-out version of early autumn. I'd never been a fan of the cold, so I wasn't about to complain. Still… might be time to swap my gear for something warmer.
"You finally made up your mind, huh?" Klaus said, taking the room key from my hand with a knowing look.
"I've been meaning to for a while — just couldn't scrape together the mora, you know how it is." I gave a small shrug, and the innkeeper responded with a sympathetic grunt.
"Well then, fair winds to you, Mark. Drop by if you're ever in the area again." He paused. "Ah — almost forgot. Hertha asked me to give you this." From under the counter, he pulled out a small bundle that smelled unmistakably like fresh-baked pastry.
"Thanks. I will." I shook the offered hand and, gift in hand from Klaus's ever-thoughtful wife, made my way out. I still had one last stop to make before leaving town.
In just under two months, Springvale never quite became home — but it definitely left a pleasant aftertaste in my memory. The people here were simple, friendly. Sure, not without their flaws, but who isn't? Walking down the still-damp road, slick from the morning rain, I pulled my travel cloak a little tighter around me. It didn't do much against the chill, but it was better than nothing.
"Back already?" Rosemary greeted me warmly, tucking a loose strand of blonde hair behind her ear out of habit.
"Been back for a while," I replied, setting a pouch down on her table. "Just figured I'd wrap everything up in one go instead of running around the village twice." Inside were the masks I'd collected, along with a few vials of hoppin' nectar I'd harvested the day before.
"I see." Her voice changed slightly as she gave a small nod, lips pressing into a thin line.
Bad mood?
I waited a few minutes while she counted out payment for the materials. Once done, I accepted the modest stack of Mora with a quiet thanks. That was the last of my errands in Springvale. I gave her a short nod of farewell and turned to go.
"Mark..." her voice called out behind me just as I pushed open the wooden door.
"Fair winds." Her smile didn't quite reach her eyes.
"Yeah." I gave Rosemary a warm smile in return. "If I'm ever passing through again, I'll bring you something nice." I promised. One final wave, and I closed the door gently behind me.
"Kyuu?" Rimuru peeked out from beneath the cloak, head tilted in silent curiosity at the shift in my expression.
"Let's go." I ruffled the little guy's head, grinning softly at how sensitive he'd become to my moods lately.
Springvale was about five hours from the capital on foot — or about an hour at a light jog for someone like me. I planned to shave that down even more if I could, especially with the clouds gathering overhead. They didn't look like the friendly kind.
Unfortunately, dodging the rain entirely didn't pan out. Just as I reached the outskirts of the city, the skies opened up again, drenching everything in cold, steady sheets. The famed capital bridge — something I'd only seen from a distance before — looked a lot bigger in person than it had in the game. The structure was impressive, no doubt reinforced with the help of local mages and a certain all-too-familiar crystal.
After crossing the remaining stretch to the city gates, I allowed myself a few moments to catch my breath. Covering more than twenty-five kilometers (thanks to the in-game map and markers, I could tell almost exactly) in just under forty minutes, and on rain-soaked dirt roads no less, wasn't exactly a walk in the park. But it was over now. I could finally exhale.
Once I'd got my breathing under control and my legs stopped screaming, I headed toward a group of knights loitering near the wall — doing their best to look like proud guardians of the realm while mostly just soaking under the downpour with expressions of equal boredom and irritation. As I approached the gate, one of them peeled off from the group and started walking toward me.
"Good afternoon," the knight greeted me politely. There were faint lines etched into his face — signs of age or maybe just years of rain and responsibility — and every so often, his eyes flicked toward Rimuru, who was perched quietly on my shoulder.
"If I may ask, who are you, and what brings you to Mondstadt?"
"Traveler. I make my living hunting monsters. One second…" I made a show of reaching into my coat, fishing out the letter I'd received a month ago. "Here you go." I handed the envelope over.
He took it carefully, ignoring the rain soaking into the parchment as he read it. After a moment, he nodded and passed it back.
"I've heard about you," the knight said with a professional sort of smile — the kind you offer when protocol demands it. "Still, you'll need a temporary entry permit to stay in the city. This way, please…"
Another ten minutes of my life devoured by the glorious machine of red tape — and a modest 'processing fee' on top — and I was finally free to go.
The permit was a rectangular stone token engraved with the Anemo Archon's insignia. I was required to carry it at all times while within the city and return it when I left. It was only valid for a month. After that, I'd have to either leave Mondstadt or apply for an extension — assuming I hadn't already purchased property or gained official citizenship.
After asking for directions to the Adventurers' Guild, I said a quick goodbye to the gate staff and stepped back out into the worsening rain, headed straight for the Guild. Or at least I tried. Turns out, navigating the real Mondstadt wasn't as easy as its game counterpart — especially when the scale was so much larger. I ended up wandering for a bit.
Fortunately, just as I was about to ask someone for help, I spotted a guy around my age walking by — and, luck of the draw, he happened to be going in the same direction.
"Ugh, what a downpour," my new, unintentional companion muttered, clearly unimpressed by the weather.
"Yeah, tell me about it," I replied, glancing over. That's when I noticed something strange — his name was no longer hidden behind question marks.
"Do I have something on my face?" he asked awkwardly, pointing at himself with a nervous laugh.
And yet…
What were the odds? That the first random person I'd run into in Mondstadt — besides the pair of knights at the gate and that bloodsucking bureaucrat — would end up being the walking embodiment of Murphy's Law? Then again, if fate was going to throw us together, the Guild or its outskirts were probably the most predictable place for it to happen.