The morning sun cast long shadows across Millbrook's streets as Ren made his way back to the guild hall. He'd spent the night at a cheap inn, sharing a room with Vermillion who had maintained her human disguise perfectly. The other patrons had barely glanced at them—just another F-rank adventurer and his companion trying to scrape together enough coin for decent meals.
"You're really going through with this?" Vermillion asked as they approached the guild entrance.
"Twenty Silverleaf herbs," Ren replied, holding up the contract he'd taken the previous day. "Should be simple enough for an F-rank Flame Mage, right?"
The Whispering Woods lay just outside Millbrook's borders, a relatively safe area where new adventurers cut their teeth on minor monsters and resource gathering. Ren had purchased basic equipment with his remaining coins—a simple sword, leather armor that had seen better days, and a small pack for carrying herbs.
The other adventurers in the guild barely acknowledged his presence as he signed out for his first contract. To them, he was already forgotten—just another face in the endless stream of hopefuls who would either quit within a month or die in some F-rank dungeon.
The Whispering Woods earned their name from the constant rustle of leaves even on windless days. Ancient trees stretched toward the sky, their canopy filtering the sunlight into dancing patterns on the forest floor. It would have been beautiful if not for the underlying sense of danger that permeated the air.
"Silverleaf grows near water sources," Vermillion said, consulting the herb guide he'd borrowed from the guild. "Look for the silver-edged leaves that catch the light."
They found their first cluster beside a babbling stream, the distinctive plants growing in neat little patches. Ren knelt to harvest them, noting how the simple task felt almost meditative after everything he'd been through.
"This is peaceful," he murmured.
"Don't get too comfortable," Vermillion warned. "Even F-rank areas have—"
A low growl cut through the forest quiet. Both of them froze as something large moved through the underbrush nearby. The sound of snapping branches grew closer.
"Forest Wolf," Vermillion identified quietly. "E-rank monster. Technically above your supposed pay grade."
The creature that emerged from the trees was massive—easily the size of a small horse, with fur that seemed to absorb light and eyes that glowed with predatory intelligence. It studied them for a moment, then bared teeth the length of Ren's fingers.
"What would a real F-rank adventurer do?" Ren asked, his hand moving to his sword.
"Run screaming," Vermillion replied. "Or die trying to fight it."
The wolf lunged.
Ren's enhanced reflexes kicked in, and he rolled aside as claws raked the ground where he'd been kneeling. The beast was fast, but compared to the supernatural speed he now possessed, it seemed almost sluggish.
Still, he forced himself to fight like the F-rank he was supposed to be. Clumsy sword work, desperate dodges, and carefully controlled "fear" in his movements. The wolf pressed its advantage, sensing easy prey.
When he finally "got lucky" with a strike that found the creature's heart, Ren made sure to collapse afterward, breathing hard and shaking as if the encounter had pushed him to his limits.
"Well done," Vermillion said, though her voice carried amusement at his theatrical performance. "Very convincing."
They finished gathering the Silverleaf without further incident, though Ren noticed several other creatures watching them from the shadows—all keeping their distance after the wolf's death.
Back at the guild, the clerk who processed his contract completion seemed surprised.
"You actually finished it?" she said, checking the herbs for quality. "And you encountered a Forest Wolf?"
"Got lucky," Ren said, affecting a modest tone. "Managed to catch it off guard."
"Hmm." She stamped his completion form. "Five silver pieces, as agreed. Not bad for your first contract."
The coins felt insignificant in his hand, but around the guild hall, he noticed a few adventurers giving him slightly more respectful nods. Surviving an encounter with an E-rank monster on your first F-rank contract was noteworthy, even if it was attributed to luck.
"What's next?" Vermillion asked as they left the guild.
Ren looked at the handful of copper and silver coins—barely enough for another night at the inn and a simple meal. In his previous life, this would have seemed like a fortune. Now, with dragon power thrumming in his veins and seven wives bound to his soul, it felt like playing house.
"More contracts," he said. "Build a reputation as a reliable F-rank. Let them get comfortable with underestimating me."
"And then?"
Ren's eyes drifted toward the higher-rank quest boards, where contracts worth dozens of gold pieces waited for adventurers brave enough to claim them.
"Then we show them what a real dragon can do."
In his mind, six voices whispered their approval of his patience and cunning. The seventh—Vermillion's—purred with anticipation for the day when their beloved would reveal his true nature to this world that had already dismissed him as worthless.
That day was coming.
But not yet.