No More Pain For This Villain.



Year: 1738

Date: 31

Month: Equinoxia 

Time: 3:30 PM 

[Demacia Guild: Sephra.]

Inside the grandiose halls of the Demacia Guild, a remarkable half-timbered medieval building, the daily hustle and bustle unfolded. Adventurers of all kinds thronged the space, eagerly engaging in their quests and seeking new opportunities.

Around the bustling bulletin boards, adventurers clustered, their eyes scanning the posted missions. Others sought respite at the guild's dining area, indulging in hearty meals to replenish their energy. It seemed like an ordinary day, filled with the usual fervor, until...

"-And it's done!" Old man Clay proclaimed triumphantly, his weathered hands gently closing around the thumb of a young red-headed girl standing before his counter.

The girl, with her fiery locks cascading down her shoulders, blinked in surprise. The act of extracting her mana print hadn't been as painful as she had anticipated. Her determination to carve her path as an adventurer surpassed momentary discomfort.

Witnessing the delicate yet resolute figure of the red-haired girl, Old Man Clay sighed, a mixture of admiration and concern lingering in his eyes. "Please wait here. I'll retrieve your ID," he assured her, stepping away from the counter and disappearing into the depths of the back room.

In the secluded chamber, the walls adorned with ancient scrolls and mystical artifacts, Old Man Clay busied himself with the creation of the girl's Guild ID. 

His experienced hands moved with purpose, delicately inscribing her name, date of birth, and other pertinent details onto the polished card. With each stroke of the pen, he infused the identification document with a touch of magic, imbuing it with the power to unlock doors and grant her access to the guild's resources.

After a few minutes, Old Man Clay emerged from the room, holding a gleaming Guild ID in his hands. The card bore the girl's name in elegant calligraphy, a symbol of her official recognition as a member of the Demacia Guild.

"Here you go, my dear. Your Guild ID," he said, presenting the card to her with a warm smile. "May it guide you on your adventures and keep you safe within our ranks."

The red-headed girl accepted the ID with a mixture of gratitude and excitement, her fingers brushing over the intricate design. This small card held the promise of a new chapter in her life, a testament to her aspirations and the path she had chosen to tread.

Freya Redwood—it was the name written on the wooden slate.

With a renewed sense of purpose, she tucked the Guild ID into a safe pocket, ready to embark on the thrilling adventures that awaited her outside the Demacia Guild. Freya's vibrant red hair cascaded in loose waves down her back, complementing her fair complexion and hazel eyes that sparkled with determination. Her slender frame hinted at agility and resilience, while her confident stance radiated a sense of adventure.

As Freya made her way through the bustling guild, she caught glimpses of curious onlookers and fellow adventurers, their gazes filled with a mix of curiosity and anticipation. Her excitement grew with every step, and her face lit up with a bright smile.

Step step.

Someone walked behind Old Man Clay, their footsteps resounding. "With this, you are free now," a feminine voice said, and Clay turned to face Astrid.

"Yeah, I'm good to go now, Astrid," Old Man Clay chuckled, his eyes crinkling with warmth. It wasn't about his shift, but rather something else they were discussing.

"I'll go and see the Guild Master before leaving then. Make sure you don't mess up while I'm gone," Clay instructed as he passed by the new recruit.

Astrid, the assistant and substitute for Clay, pouted in response. Her expressive face reflected a mix of playful annoyance and determination. "Muuu! I won't. You don't have to tell me," she protested, crossing her arms and puffing out her cheeks.

Clay's pace of walking was deliberate, taking his time to thoroughly observe the guild before his departure. It wasn't a slowness due to his age but rather a desire for self-satisfaction in leaving things in order.

Ascending the stairs with caution, Clay arrived at the second-floor corridor. Moving ahead, his gaze settled on a door made of dark oak wood—it was the office of the Guild Master.

The old man knocked on the door, the sound echoing through the room. A deep and resonant voice responded, "Come in."

Pushing the door open, the old man entered the room. His eyes fell upon the tired face of a youth, whose gaze was fixed on a pile of papers scattered across the table. Despite the weariness, his raven hair and handsome features were still apparent, accentuated by a small cut above his left eye.

The room carried the aroma of freshly brewed coffee, a sign that the Guild Master, Alver, sought to enhance his productivity even at the expense of sleep.

"I am set to go, Sir Alver," the old man addressed the youth with utmost respect.

Alver sighed, his voice tinged with a hint of disappointment. "Oh, that's... good. I would have preferred for you to stay, especially during such an important time. But I cannot stop you, as this is an important occasion for you. Just make sure you return before the end of the month," he added.

"Understood," Old man Clay replied, preparing to leave. But before he could turn away, Alver called out, "Stop."

Clay halted, waiting for Alver to speak further. The Guild Master reached into his desk and pulled out a small pouch, the contents concealed within.

Confusion flashed across Clay's face as he accepted the pouch without a word. As he opened it, his eyes widened in surprise. "It's a platinum coin!" he exclaimed, unable to contain his astonishment.

Alver quickly moved to cover Clay's mouth, his expression urgent. "Shhh... keep it down, Gramps! I don't have many to give out to Astrid and the other employees."

Clay's realization dawned, and he nodded in understanding as Alver removed his hand, allowing him to speak.

"I can't take it," Clay asserted firmly, his words curt as he placed the pouch back on the table.

"It's for your grandkids, not for you," Alver insisted, attempting to justify the gift. When Clay remained steadfast in his refusal, Alver continued, "You remember when I bought this guild a few months ago."

Clay indeed recalled the time when Alver had purchased the guild, using a substantial sum of money to settle the debts left behind by the previous guild master, who had also been known for his fiery temperament.

"You helped me a lot when I was new, so consider it a small gift from me," Alver added, hoping to persuade the old man. But Clay's principles held strong.

A platinum coin was a rare sight, a treasure that only a few would encounter in their lifetime. Clay couldn't fathom where Alver obtained such wealth, but he knew it wasn't right for him to accept such a significant amount of money.

Alver sighed, his gaze fixed on the determined old man. Straightening his expression, he spoke sternly, "I'll cancel your leave then—!" However, before he could finish his sentence, the pouch vanished from his sight, now firmly in Clay's hands.

Alver pondered for a moment, realizing the importance of the occasion that had prompted Clay's change of heart.

"Then you may leave, Gramps," Alver conceded, using the affectionate nickname he reserved for Clay outside of work hours.

Clay nodded in acknowledgment, his departure accompanied by the parting words, "Take care, kiddo. Don't make a mess while I'm away." Although his tone lacked formality, it carried a warmth akin to that of a caring grandfather