Earlier that morning, George went about his day as usual. After getting today's newspapers, he walked into a nearby eatery directly across from the Adventurer's Guild. Following a leisurely breakfast, he lingered over his coffee, allowing the morning crowds outside the guild to thin out before entering to scan the job postings. By this time of the day, the majority of the better-paying jobs had already been taken by professional Adventurers. Although the job board was still half full, most jobs had been posted for over a month, with their posters seeking cheap labor for non-urgent, trivial work. Having frequented the job boards for half a year, George quickly skipped through the familiar ads, searching for new ads who genuinely needed his assistance. Nearby, several elderly Knights and Adventurers also browsed the board, sharing George's goal.

  Since it was Saturday, a few hungover Adventurers, reeking of alcohol, would occasionally drop by in search of extra cash. Being a drinker himself, George was mindful of his personal hygiene, ensuring he wouldn't inadvertently deter potential clients. Exhaling a refreshing breath of mint, George stood confidently, his presence subtly enhanced by the scent of high-end soap, as he browsed the job board, wearing his polished, high-gloss leather armor.

  Suddenly, the lobby's emergency bell clanged out a series of three sonorous "Dongs!" alerting everyone in the cavernous hall. The imposing, three-meter-tall bell boasted a rich history dating back to an era before the Kingdom's foundation. It was decorated by scriptures which story being told had long been forgotten. Many Adventurers left the job boards and gathered around the receptionist to find out what was happening.

  Five minutes later, a receptionist's amplified voice boomed through the megaphone, her words crisp and urgent, "We have an emergency: four simultaneous bandit attacks are targeting Porcelain and Bronze-ranked Botanists." After a brief pause, the receptionist's voice turned grave as she added, "In other words, the bandits are attempting to kidnap children."

  The crowd reacted instantly to the news. For an attack to happen so close to the capital, it was a serious matter. A low hum of murmurs began to circulate through the hall, gradually increasing in volume.

  "Please quiet down," the receptionist requested, her voice firm but polite, as she sought to regain the crowd's attention. After a moment, as the crowd calmed, the receptionist continued, "In response, the government has issued four separate quests, each corresponding to one of the targeted locations. These quests require three parties each, comprised of Silver or Bronze-ranked members, with at least one Combat Healer per team. To those who are interested, please form a party before registering." She then pointed to an empty line, cordoned off by belt barriers, and said, "This line is reserved for the emergency quests."

  Government-sponsored quests usually paid standard market rates, with no room for negotiation. Since these were bandit attacks, the risk of actual combat was high, discouraging many potential participants. In an effort to rally the crowd, the receptionist emphasized, "These are high-profile quests. Parties that encounter combat and succeed will likely gain fame as heroes of the Kingdom. Please join!"

  After a moment of murmurs and stir, the crowd quickly dispersed, with many showing no interest in the quests, while others attempted to form parties.

  George's keen instincts, honed through years of experience, alerted him to a man in gray robe, who moved with unusual haste toward the emergency quest registration. Several Adventurers cast a brief glance at the robed man, but paid him no further mind.

  "These quests required parties, why is he registering alone?" Finding it strange, George attempted to catch a glimpse of the man's face. Despite the absence of a mask, the man's features remained strangely obscure. "I can't see him clearly. Is my age catching up?" George thought as he narrowed his eyes for a better look. Upon closer inspection, George discovered that the man was shrouded by a veil of distorting air. Taken aback by his discovery, George's mind whispered, "What is that?"

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Pretending to look at the quest posters near the emergency lines, George casually strolled toward the man, who was in the process of registering for the emergency quest. From a distance of just two meters, George became acutely aware of the intense, palpable pressure emanating from the veil, as he suddenly realized, "That veil is made of Divine Power." Ordinarily, Mana concentrations of this magnitude would require the synchronized casting of a grand spell by a battalion of high-ranking Knights. As a seasoned Knight, George had participated in casting Combination Spells during intense training exercises, giving him a unique understanding of the intricacies involved. This enigmatic figure, George realized, possessed an extraordinary amount of Divine Power, which was extended approximately one inch outward with astonishing density, single-handedly replicating a feat that would normally require hundreds of capable Knights.

  After registering for the quest, the mysterious man departed toward the hallway, rather than the exit, by himself.

  "One quest has been claimed. We still need parties for three more!" the receptionist announced.

  Driven by curiosity, George followed the man.

  In the hallway, the man swiftly turned toward the stairs and ascended. The man walked so quickly that George had to jog to keep up. At the top of the stairs, George found the door to the balcony. He followed the mysterious man through it, but found the balcony empty.

  "Strange..." George looked around, scanning the empty balcony, perplexed. "Did he just vanish into thin air?" Unable to find the mysterious man, George returned to the lobby.

  "Hey, George!" an elderly man with white hair, streaked with blue, called out to the former Knight.

  "Hello, Hendrick. Are you signing up for the quest?" George replied. Hendrick, a retired Adventurer, often shared quests from the low-paying, disadvantaged populace with George.

  "Yes, I am. I'm a Combat Healer. I saw you looking at the quest poster earlier. Want to team up?"

  Combat Healer referred to Physicians who had a ranked combat discipline license.

  "Sounds good! I'm a Rogue."

  "By the way, that was Hawk."

  "Oh?" George's eyes widened in surprise as he asked, "How do you know?"

  "I've worked here for decades, and he occasionally appears, taking on the most perilous quests. If you stick around long enough, you'll catch glimpses of him from time to time. That said, don't waste your time trying to approach him; he'll just brush you off." Hendrick said before adding. "And if you're persistent enough, he'll knock you out using a spell."

  In a few minutes, with the party complete, George and his teammates registered with the receptionist for the emergency quest. After three parties had been gathered, they headed to a wagon in the Adventurer's Guild parking lot. Then, without any delay, the three wagons rushed toward their destination.

  When the parties arrived at the quest location, it was almost noon. George, accompanied by two Hunters from the other parties, activated the Divine Spell: Enhanced Strength and then scouted ahead, tracking the children's wagons.

  About fifteen minutes from the designated location, they stumbled upon a grim scene: the lifeless bodies of two Adventurers and multiple bandits lay in the middle of the road. The battlefield was scarred by their deadly battle; vultures could be seen circling above. Four empty wagons, all belonging to the Adventurer's Guild, were abandoned on the side and were stained with blood.

  With a sense of urgency, George, together with another Hunter, quickly checked the bodies for a pulse.

  "No pulse," George said somberly, as the other Hunter shook his head.

  With the possibility that the other two Adventurers might still be engaged in combat, George and the Hunters pressed on, following the children's footprints. "Please, let us make it in time!" George thought, as he sprinted with the two Hunters in unison, hoping to provide assistance.

  Following a frantic five-minute sprint, the children's footprints ended at the intersection with multiple wagon tracks, which, unfortunately, merged with the main highway, rendering them untraceable. With heavy hearts, the scouts exchanged disconsolate glances, somberly shook their heads in unison, and then retreated back to the desolate scene where the Adventurer's Guild's wagons lay abandoned.

  George's gaze fell upon the two fallen Adventurers, his heart weighed down by the all-too-familiar, gnawing regret. "Once again, I'm too late," he thought, bowing his head in somber contemplation.

  The glint of the shiny metallic armor stirred a pang in George's chest, evoking memories of his comrades in the Royal Covert Division, and the subordinates who perished before their time. George's blank stare fixed on the scene as he wondered, "For six months, I've failed to save anyone. Why do I still cling to life when I should have joined them?" As the haunting whispers of his victims swirled louder in his despairing spiral, he added, "and when so many souls want me dead?"