Who Says I’m Not a Legitimate Adventurer?

“This is a special merit issued by the Military Department.”

“Back then, before I entered the Third Legion, I had already received the Silver Griffon Medal.”

Ryan recalled the events of those years.

Lance, meanwhile, was surprised. He had thought Uncle Ryan was merely an ordinary retired veteran, but now it seemed the man’s background was far from simple.

Then again, being allocated an independent house by the Veterans’ Guild had already been something rather special—it was just that he had never realized it before.

“A veteran who possesses this medal can apply to the Kingdom Military Department for a special inheritance quota.”

“As long as the designated inheritor successfully steps into the Extraordinary Realm and officially advances into a Professional Class, they can take this legally binding contract directly to the Veterans’ Institute of either the royal capital or provincial military headquarters to receive the legendary Heroic Spirit Baptism.”

This was an extremely precious official high-level benefit.

It originated from an enormous ritual array jointly constructed by the kingdom’s high-ranking priests and the Royal Mage Corps through the expenditure of countless resources.

As long as a newly advanced Professional stepped into the center of that massive array, they could trigger a faint resonance left behind by the heroic spirits of countless warriors who had died in battle throughout history.

Although this baptism could never allow someone to ascend to greatness in a single step—

It could permanently solidify a slight enhancement related to the kingdom’s heroic spirits during the stage when a Professional’s “Source Essence” had only just condensed into form.

Perhaps it would slightly increase the healing speed of one’s muscles.

Or perhaps it would grant additional resistance against mental control.

Although the enhancement itself might not be particularly large, it was absolutely the kind of benefit that could accompany a person for their entire life.

Of course, what was truly precious was not the enhancement itself, but the Heroic Spirit that resonated with you. That involved other secrets of the kingdom.

So Ryan did not mention it.

He looked at Lance before him, his eyes full of an elder’s concern for a younger generation member.

“You’ve found yourself a job traveling around with merchant caravans now. Sooner or later, you’re bound to encounter all kinds of unpredictable dangers out there.”

“Uncle Ryan is a cripple now. There’s not much I can do to help you with force anymore.”

“If one day you truly have the chance to touch the threshold of becoming a Professional, then consider this baptism quota the final push from these old bones of mine.”

Hearing those words, Lance’s heart instantly felt even more bitter.

That unknown mastermind, in order to manipulate fate, had given him a past filled with lies.

Yet fate had also coincidentally given him, within this small town, an Uncle Ryan who had a terrible temper but was willing to give everything sincerely for his sake.

If all of this truly was merely part of that scripted fate—

Then this selfless veteran was absolutely the brightest and warmest trace of reality beyond that false script.

“Thank you, Uncle Ryan.”

This time, Lance did not choose to refuse.

He lowered his head, picked up the feather quill, and signed his name at the very bottom of the parchment with utmost seriousness.

This represented him formally accepting this heavy kindness and responsibility.

“Perhaps one day, I’ll definitely make you proud of me too.”

Lance raised his head and gave his firmest promise.

“Good, good, good.”

Ryan happily repeated the word three times in a row as he carefully stored away the signed parchment contract.

“I’ll head over to the Veterans’ Guild later to officially register this contract.”

The veteran placed his hand on Lance’s shoulder and squeezed firmly.

“When you’re out there traveling with caravans in the future, pay attention to your safety. And when you have time, remember to come visit this old man often.”

“I definitely will.”

Lance looked at the elder before him, his smile becoming incomparably bright.

……

Ryan escorted Lance all the way to the intersection of the streets.

By now, the sky outside had already gone completely dark.

Only several dim streetlamps emitted faint light across the stone-paved road.

The veteran stood silently in place, watching the young man’s figure gradually disappear into the darkness at the end of the street.

Only after that upright silhouette had completely vanished did the gentle smile belonging to an elder slowly disappear from Ryan’s face bit by bit.

He turned around, dragging his injured left leg as he limped back toward the house with the support of his cane.

Just as he stepped into the first-floor living room, his sharp ears caught an unusual sound.

From the direction of the attic on the second floor came a suppressed and painful whimper.

“So you really took the bait.”

Ryan stretched out a rough hand to support himself against the wooden staircase railing and slowly made his way up step by step.

Upon reaching the end, he extended his hand and pushed open the half-closed attic door.

At this moment, right in the center of the room, a mysterious figure wearing a large cloak was suspended forcefully in midair.

This was a high-level alchemy trap Ryan had arranged in advance within the attic.

【Silver Thorn Binding】

Four secret silver threads engraved with dark blue runes flickering across their surfaces coiled tightly around the intruder’s limbs as though alive.

The surfaces of these seemingly delicate metal threads had long been coated with a specially made neurotoxin capable of disrupting mana circulation and muscular exertion.

The moment prey attempted to struggle free, the secret silver threads would tighten further and further until they cut directly into the bones.

The hood used by the cloaked figure to conceal her face had already been flung off during the violent struggle.

Revealed beneath it was an unusually beautiful and youthful face filled with wildness.

Amid the girl’s somewhat messy silver-gray hair stood a pair of fluffy gray beast ears.

This was an extremely rare Demi-Human.

At this moment, on the desk in the corner of the attic sat a small brass furnace in silence.

Within the furnace, a black paste-like substance was slowly burning, releasing an extremely peculiar scent.

This was a very obscure alchemical lure.

Once ignited, it could perfectly simulate the scent of a certain material craved by the Azure Moon Werewolf royal clan.

Only royals with the purest bloodlines could smell this special scent and would instinctively be drawn toward it.

The Werewolf girl suspended in midair saw the limping man who entered through the door.

A low growl filled with hostility immediately emerged from her pale throat.

Then the girl’s nose twitched forcefully twice.

She smelled the lingering scent left behind by training in certain alchemical secret arts within the room.

“You’re one of the hunting dogs from the Black Iron Directorate?”

The girl angrily bared her two adorable sharp canine teeth.

Even though the sharp secret silver threads had already cut glaring bloody marks into her body, she still struggled and twisted continuously in midair like a maddened little beast.

In today’s society, where humans and many ordinary Demi-Human races seemingly coexisted peacefully—

Many deceived civilians naively believed that the grand dream of racial integration had already been achieved.

But only the minority races possessing rare bloodlines understood the truth deep in their hearts.

Within the glamorous shadows of the Iris Kingdom, there had always secretly existed a terrifying violent organization known as the Black Iron Directorate.