The golden light of morning crept through the tall glass windows of the Spirit Training Center. Dewdrops clung to the edges of the grass outside, and faint chirps echoed across the vast courtyard. The facility, with its floating stones and spirit-infused halls, was slowly awakening with the breath of a new day.
Sam stirred on the firm bedding provided in his assigned chamber. The room still carried the faint scent of wood polish and spirit energy, reminding him that this place—unlike anywhere else—was his new temporary home. They had to live here until their training was complete.
He yawned and sat up, rubbing his eyes. His shoulder still ached slightly from yesterday's sparring, but his spirit burned brighter.
A swirl of mist coalesced near his side.
"Morning already?" a sharp, cheerful voice said.
Sam looked to his left where a small glowing being floated lazily in the air—Siro, his spirit companion. Barely the size of a loaf of bread, Siro had a cheeky grin, floating in a perpetual half-spin like a mischievous wisp with gleaming eyes.
"Hey, Siro…" Sam muttered as he stood up and stretched. "Did you eat anything? Or… are you hungry?"
Siro spun rapidly with excitement. "Yes! I've been dreaming all night! First—I want to eat a goblin's brain. Juicy and squishy! Then maybe... a wolf's leg! Chewy, fatty, and oh-so-tasty!"
Sam winced. "Ooho... That's too bad. Who'll catch those poor creatures for you?"
Siro's grin widened. "Obviously, you will! Every demon you kill boosts me! That's how I grow stronger!"
"Wait, wait, wait…" Sam laughed nervously. "You mean, I do the work, you get the feast?"
"Exactly!" Siro chimed proudly. "And don't forget... until you complete fifty tasks, I won't be lifting a finger to help. That's our deal!"
"Ugh…" Sam groaned, dragging himself toward the small shower chamber nearby. "Remind me why I agreed to this?"
"Because you need me," Siro said with a smug tone. "Now go get ready! We have work to do! And if you don't complete those tasks soon… well…" Siro floated close, narrowing his eyes. "I might get so hungry I'll eat you."
Sam paused, raising an eyebrow. "You're joking… right?"
Siro simply grinned. No confirmation. No denial.
"Right. That's not disturbing at all…" Sam muttered.
After a quick shower and some breakfast—light bread, spirit-milk tea, and a boiled egg—Sam slung his small travel satchel over his shoulder and exited the Training Center. The sky above was bright blue, and the air carried the warm hum of spirit energy.
"We need to stop by my house first," Sam said, stepping into the cobbled road leading toward the southern district of the town.
Siro tilted in the air. "But why?"
"I need my swords," Sam replied. "You know. The thing I'm supposed to use to actually fight demons?"
Siro sparkled. "Oooooh~ I like it already."
They reached Sam's home quickly—a modest cottage near the edge of town with a tiled roof and a small garden. The air was quiet. His father was sitting outside under the wooden shade, sipping morning tea.
"Sam?" his father said, surprised to see him. "You're back so early."
"I need the swords," Sam said seriously.
His father paused, eyes narrowing. "Why do you need them?"
"I'll explain later," Sam said quickly. "Please, just trust me."
There was a long silence, the kind only fathers could give. After a moment, his father stood, disappeared inside, and returned holding a wooden case. He opened it gently, revealing two gleaming blades—simple but elegant, polished and battle-worn.
"These belonged to your grandfather," he said quietly. "He used them to protect people… I hope you'll do the same."
Sam took the swords reverently, strapping them onto his back.
"God will help you," his father added.
Sam nodded once, bowed, and turned away.
Once they were far from the house, Siro spoke up. "So, where to now?"
Sam thought for a moment. "There's a place… I've heard people talk about it. Near the east forest. Goblins sometimes live there."
"Goblins!" Siro's eyes lit up. "Yes! Then your first task today—kill five level-1 goblins. Bring their heads to the Demon Selling Store."
Sam stopped. "Wait, five?!"
Siro hovered higher, counting on his tiny fingers. "One, two, three, four, five. That's the minimum. Chop-chop!"
Sam swallowed hard. "I haven't even fought a real demon yet…"
"Great!" Siro laughed. "What better time to start?"
They ventured east, the path winding through hills and patches of wild trees until it opened into a dense green patch. The smell of moss filled the air. Birds scattered. It was quiet… too quiet.
Then they saw them.
Seven small green creatures crouched in the underbrush. They had twisted limbs, jagged yellow teeth, and wicked clubs in their clawed hands. Their eyes burned with malice. Goblins.
Siro whispered gleefully, "Your luck is amazing. Look at all those green snacks!"
Sam's throat went dry. "You call this luck?!"
One of the goblins noticed them—and shrieked. The others turned. Then, with surprising speed, they all charged.
Sam fumbled, unsheathing his blades. "Here they come!"
The first goblin lunged. Sam slashed but missed—the creature was too quick. Claws scraped across Sam's shoulder, tearing his sleeve and drawing blood.
"Agh!" Sam staggered back.
Siro's voice cut through the chaos. "If you fight like that, you'll be demon food before sunset!"
Sam gritted his teeth. He tightened his grip on the swords, steadied his breath, and focused.
"Watch their movements… breathe… move with rhythm," he whispered to himself.
The next goblin came. Sam sidestepped and slashed—this time, hitting true. The creature shrieked and collapsed. The others paused, assessing his change in stance.
Siro floated in the air, eyes gleaming. "Now that's better."
Sam advanced. Blade met club. He ducked, turned, slashed again. One goblin fell, then another. His heart pounded. His movements became faster, more fluid.
Three… four… five…
A sixth goblin screeched and tried to flee. Sam chased it down, leaping forward with a final strike.
Then silence.
The bodies of seven goblins lay around him, the ground soaked with green blood and dust.
Sam panted, blades shaking in his hands. He couldn't believe it. "I… did it?"
Siro whooped. "You did! Seven heads! That's two extra! You overachiever!"
Sam bundled the goblin heads into a cloth sack, doing his best not to gag. The Demon Selling Store was a small, nondescript stone building at the edge of the market—one of the only legal outlets allowed to deal in monster remains.
The clerk, a bored-looking man with spirit-goggles, perked up when Sam dropped the heads on the counter.
"Seven level-1 goblins? Not bad. First time?"
Sam nodded.
"You'll get 5 coins per head. That's 35 coins total."
The man handed him a leather pouch. Sam accepted it with both hands. His first reward.
Outside, Siro floated upside-down lazily. "Not bad, not bad! You killed 7 goblins. I gained 70 spirit points!"
Sam raised an eyebrow. "You get 10 points per goblin?"
"Yes," Siro replied smugly. "And now… I'm just 30 points away from reaching level 2!"
"Do all your levels need 100 points to level up?"
Siro laughed. "Only from level 1 to 2. After that, it gets harder. 500 points from 2 to 3. 1000 from 3 to 4. And so on…"
"Great…" Sam muttered. "Just great…"