Who Says I’m Not a Legitimate Adventurer?

“Stay close.”

Lance suppressed the thoughts in his mind and led Cecilia off the wide main road, plunging straight into the dense woodland on the eastern side of the forest.

The trees here were noticeably taller than those on the outskirts. Layers upon layers of dense ancient oak canopies blocked out the sunlight completely.

The light dimmed abruptly.

Cecilia visibly grew tense. She clutched the strap of her backpack tightly, her eyes scanning the shadowy tree silhouettes around her with vigilance.

Lance kept a constant watch on the 【Environmental Stability】 indicator at the corner of his retina.

The value remained above 90%, very stable.

Still, he deliberately tried heading toward areas where the stability dropped, using it as a teaching opportunity.

“In a forest, your eyes can sometimes deceive you, but your ears won’t.”

Lance stopped beside an old tree covered in moss and spoke.“Learning to listen is the key to staying alive.”

“What can you hear right now?”

Hearing this, Cecilia immediately closed her eyes. Her pointed ears twitched slightly.

Though she hadn’t undergone formal auditory training, her Half-Elf blood granted her hearing far sharper than that of humans.

The rustling of leaves in the wind, the gentle murmur of a distant stream, and her own slightly hurried heartbeat.

Aside from that…

“It’s very quiet.”

Cecilia opened her eyes and said uncertainly.

“Other than the wind, there’s nothing.”

“That’s right.”

Lance nodded approvingly.

“But that’s not a good thing.”

“A normal forest should be filled with bird calls and insect chirping—that’s the kind of noisy that means safety.”

“If it’s this quiet, it means a higher-level predator may have passed through ahead of us, or this could be the territory of some large magical creature.”

“Those small animals are better than we are at avoiding danger.”

Lance pointed toward a narrow path on the right.

“So we can’t go straight. We’ll have to circle around from that slope to the south.”

Cecilia suddenly understood, and the way she looked at Lance carried even more admiration.

This was the gap in experience.

Following the new route, the two of them moved through the forest for a full hour and a half.

The surrounding scenery gradually began to change.

The once solid ground became soft and muddy, and the air grew thick with a strong stench of decay.

This was a vast mire.

Massive ancient trees grew at crooked angles from the black sludge, their thick aerial roots coiling across the ground like giant serpents.

The entire space felt especially gloomy and damp.

Yet within the gaps between the raised roots of those enormous trees, faint glimmers of light flickered—like scattered fragments of stars across the mud.

“That’s Moonlight Moss.”

Lance stopped at the edge of the mire and gestured forward with his chin.

“We need to pass through this mudfield to collect it.”

“Pa… pass through?”

Cecilia lowered her head to look at the black mire before her.

The surface of the sludge bubbled with marsh gas, and occasionally strange soft-bodied worms could be seen writhing in the muck.

The sticky, filthy, decay-filled sight made her break out in goosebumps instinctively.

For a young lady who had grown up in a pristine castle, it was like a nightmare.

Her fingers kept digging into the strap of her gathering bag as she stood at the edge, hesitating, her face pale.

That instinctive, physical resistance made it impossible for her to take even a single step forward.

And ever since childhood, the teachings within her family had emphasized that nobles must always maintain their composure.

“I…”

She wanted to ask if she could avoid going in, but when she thought about how she was here for an internship—if she failed to receive an excellent evaluation, she wouldn’t obtain the information needed for that rare class advancement.

If she couldn’t advance into the family’s Legacy Class, her father would be disappointed, and her aunt would be disappointed too.

Being a disappointment to those she cared about most was something she could not accept.

Seeing the hand with which Cecilia clutched her backpack strap so tightly—

The words Lance had been about to use to urge her forward caught in his throat.

He stared blankly at that trembling figure, and for a moment, it felt as though he saw through the cracks of time—glimpsing his younger self.

Had he been too harsh on her?

Since taking on this commission, he seemed to have carried a preconceived bias, nitpicking at this girl who was only sixteen or seventeen.

Lance asked himself—what had he been like at that age?

Back then, he had probably just entered his first or second year of high school, his mind filled with wild and fanciful ideas.

He had harbored unrealistic dreams about the future, childish fantasies about life, and could even brood for days over trivial emotional matters.

That was what a sixteen- or seventeen-year-old was supposed to be like.

And yet now, he was forcing this girl—who had lived her whole life in an ivory tower—to become a seasoned adventurer without any psychological transition.

How was that any different from his own father, who had only known how to suppress and pressure him through harsh discipline?

The dragon slayer becomes the dragon?

Lance’s heart jolted, realizing there was something seriously wrong with his mindset.

Since he had signed that commission, since he had decided to guide her through this internship, he shouldn’t treat her merely as a tool or a burden.

That was his responsibility.

“Phew…”

Lance let out a long breath, expelling the stagnant air from his chest.

Now that he had realized his mistake, he had to change.

He looked at the girl before him—terrified, yet stubbornly standing at the edge of the mire without taking a single step back—and his gaze gradually softened.

He understood that kind of physical aversion and cleanliness obsession all too well.

In his previous life, he had also been a city-raised child.

He remembered one summer during elementary school. His parents had run into some trouble with their business and couldn’t take care of him, so they sent him back to his grandparents’ old countryside house for two months.

During the first few days, he had almost broken down.

That entirely wooden house was built against a mountain. Though it was cool, it also meant countless insects.

In the kitchen, on the dining table, even on the bed.

Back then, he would scream at the sight of even a single cockroach.

But after two months—

In that summer filled with nothing but cicada cries and no internet—

He had reached the point where, if a small cockroach was accidentally cooked in his soup, he could calmly pick it out without changing expression and continue drinking.

It showed just how adaptable people could be.

Since his grandfather had been able to help him adapt back then, there was no reason he couldn’t do the same now.

With that thought, Lance no longer urged her.

He turned around and stepped into the black mire first.

“Squish.”

The thick black mud instantly swallowed his ankles, and the rotten stench grew even stronger.

He deliberately tested the depth, choosing a relatively firm patch.

After confirming there was no danger, Lance turned back and extended his right hand toward the hesitant girl on the shore.

He lifted his head slightly, revealing most of his face beneath the hood, a wide smile spread across it.

“If you’re scared, I can hold your hand and take you across.”

His tone was no longer cold and rigid like before, but carried a patient, guiding warmth.

“The life of a real adventurer isn’t like the thrilling, passionate stories written by bards.”

“There’s no constant glory or dramatic hero-saving-the-beauty moments.”

“There are only endless thickets to push through, endless mud pits to step in, and sweat that never quite washes away.”

“These dirty, exhausting tasks we’re facing right now—that’s the everyday life of an adventurer.”

His hand remained suspended in the air, waiting for her response.

“If you’re truly prepared to become an Adventurer, this is the real first step you need to take.”

“Don’t be afraid. I’ll guide you, step by step.”

He had experienced that suffocating, oppressive style of education before—he knew it was nothing more than laziness on the part of the educator, while the wounds it left on the student often took years to heal.

He didn’t want this girl to go through the same pain.

Cecilia looked at the encouraging smile on her senior’s face, and her entire body froze slightly.