After learning the Druid's whereabouts, Henry and Kegan decided to visit her at dawn. The Druid lady, according to the farmer, was the only protector this land had left—if anyone knew the truth about the Earthworms, it was her.
The two adventurers agreed it would be wiser to rest and prepare.
Night descended over Brown's farm like a velvet cloak, the sound of crickets mingling with the distant croak of marsh frogs. The village slept under the dim light of the twin moons, their pale glow tracing long shadows across the wheat fields.
Inside the guest room, Henry set a small candle on the bedside table. He pulled out his worn blank scrolls and magical ink, With careful movements, he transcribed the two divine spells he had not used during the day—each line of script infused with a faint magical radiance that made the parchment hum softly with power.
Once finished, he exhaled deeply and lay back on the straw-stuffed mattress. His body was weary, but his mind was alight. He raised his right hand, and the translucent blue window of his system shimmered into view.
---
Name: Henry
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Age: 14
Alignment: Neutral
Occupations
Primary Class: Mage — Level 1
Experience: 1063 / 2,500
Secondary Class: Druid — Level 1
Experience: 1062 / 2,000
---
Each Earthworm slain during the day had yielded nearly 975 experience points, while a Hobgoblin barely gave thirty-five. It was an absurd difference—proof of just how fearsome and ancient those creatures truly were. Their bodies were more resilient than iron, and their corrosive saliva could melt a man's armor in seconds. No wonder ordinary adventurers avoided this land like a cursed swamp.
Henry did a quick calculation. Three more kills, and both his Mage and Druid classes would advance. He smiled faintly, though unease lingered behind his calm expression.
"If the numbers are as bad as they say…" he whispered, "I might not live long enough to celebrate the level-up."
He shook the thought away, rose to kneel before the window, and prayed briefly to Nature. After that, he stripped off his travel-worn clothes and let sleep claim him beneath the whisper of the wind.
---
The Next Morning
Dawn painted the forest canopy gold. In the northwest corner of the woods, a wooden treehouse rose among the branches like a part of nature itself—woven from living vines, leaves, and roots.
Inside, Jedi, the Druid of the Grove, awoke with unrest gnawing at her heart. For weeks now, the soil itself had been trembling with the movement of Earthworms. Her animal companion, a cloud-feathered eagle, had reported three separate attacks on travelers this month alone.
If it continued, she feared the forest's ecosystem would collapse—rabbits, deer, even wolves would vanish. The Earthworms consumed everything: root, flesh, and bone alike. And when hunger drove them toward the farmlands, no fence would stop them.
Just as she began her morning meditation, a voice rose from outside.
"Excuse me, is Jedi, the Druid lady, in?"
She opened her eyes, startled. The call was polite but carried the solid tone of a Dwarf.
Jedi moved quickly, stepping out onto her balcony. Below stood two figures—a stocky Dwarf clad in chainmail with a greataxe on his back, and a young Human with short hair, a travel cloak, and eyes bright with curiosity.
She climbed down the living vines that spiraled around her home and landed lightly before them.
"What business brings you here so early, travelers?" she asked, her tone calm yet cautious.
Henry stepped forward and bowed in the human fashion, placing his hand over his chest. "We are adventurers, my beautiful lady. I'm Henry, a Druid and Mage. This is Kegan, my companion. We came to this village to hunt Earthworms. Brown, the farmer, told us that you oversee this region."
The Druid tilted her head slightly, studying them. Her eyes were a warm brown, but her features bore an ethereal sharpness—pointed ears. Henry noticed immediately.
Henry briefly sized up the lady.
She was clad in tight black leather armor that hugged every curve, accentuating her voluptuous figure. A spear, over two meters long, rested provocatively against her back, its tip glinting with promise. Her chestnut hair cascaded in silken waves, framing her smoldering brown eyes. Her slender limbs moved with a sultry grace, her hourglass silhouette boasting full, heaving breasts, a cinched waist that begged to be gripped, and a round, firm ass that swayed with every step. Then, his eyes caught something else—her ears, delicately pointed, teasing the air.An Elf, or perhaps a Half-Elf, radiating an untamed, primal allure.
An Elf? No, not quite. Her features carried the softness of humanity beneath elven grace.
Looking at the lady again.
Henry no longer had any doubts — this was truly a world of fantasy. No surgeon's blade or earthly art could ever craft such flawless beauty, such perfection of form and face. And now, impossibly, he was living within it.
She caught his stare and smiled faintly. "Half-Elf, if you must know. My father was an Elf of Evereska; my mother, a farmer's daughter. Both long gone."
The Dwarf chuckled. "Heh! A Half-Elf Druid, that explains the good looks and the sensible head. Elves think too much, humans drink too much. You lot seem to find the middle ground."
Jedi smirked. "And Dwarves talk too much."
Kegan burst into laughter. "Aye, that we do!"
Henry hid a smile at the exchange. Then he asked, "We wanted to confirm the rumors. Has the number of Earthworms truly risen so high?"
The Druid's expression darkened. "You heard correctly. Their population has grown beyond reason. At least fifty of them burrow beneath this region, maybe more. I've sent messages to nearby circles of Druids, but aid has been… slow."
She leaned her spear against a root and crossed her arms. "If you two are truly hunting them, you'll be doing this land a great service."
Her tone softened as she looked toward Henry. "And you—a young Druid. The forest may well favor you."
She hesitated, then added, "If you can slay twenty-five of them and bring back proof—fangs, shells, or hearts—you'll receive a bounty of two hundred gold coins per worm. For the young Druid, I can offer something more valuable… a magic item blessed by nature itself."
Kegan's eyes widened. "Two hundred a beast? By Moradin's beard, lass, that's a fortune! You'll have us rich before sunset."
Henry stayed calm but inwardly calculated. Twenty-five worms, that's five thousand in coin… plus the shells—those could fetch another twelve thousand. His pulse quickened. It wasn't just about money; this was the kind of hunt that could make a small name.
He looked up at the Half-Elf, his expression resolute. "We accept your task. You have my word—we'll bring the remains of twenty-five worms within three days."
Jedi gave a relieved nod. "Then start to the west. Beyond Brown's farm lies a cavern—five meters wide, deep as the Underdark. It's their breeding ground. Be cautious. Their acid will eat through even dwarven steel if you're not careful."
Kegan grinned and patted his axe. "Aye, I'll make sure it's their blood on the stones, not mine."
The Druid chuckled softly and wished them luck. The two adventurers turned toward the path westward, the forest mist swirling around their boots.
---
After half an hour's walk, they reached the place Jedi described—a cavern so vast its entrance yawned like the open mouth of a monster. The air inside pulsed with heat and decay, and faint tremors rolled from within the darkness.
Kegan stopped and spat to the side. "By the Forge, lad… whatever's livin' in there, it ain't gonna die easy."
With an entrance diameter exceeding 5 meters.
The mouth of the cave yawned before them, vast and lightless, exhaling a slow breath of damp rot. The scent of wet earth mixed with a metallic tang, like rust and decay soaked deep into the stone.
Kegan peered into the darkness and frowned. "By Moradin's beard, it's blacker than a mine with no lanterns. I say we turn back, lad. Grab a few torches before this place swallows us whole."
Henry nodded thoughtfully, but instead of retreating, he raised his palm and whispered, "Light."
A warm white glow bloomed at his fingertips before leaping to Kegan's greataxe. The magical words carved into the weapon flared to life, bathing the walls in pale, magical light.
Henry casted a Level 0 cantrip on the Dwarf's axe.
The Dwarf's eyes widened. "Hah! Magic's a handy thing indeed. No wonder you spellcasters walk around without lamps."
He grinned, stepping forward and holding out his shining weapon. The faint light reached only about seven meters ahead, painting jagged shadows over the cave walls.
"Still," Kegan muttered, "feels like we're standin' in a troll's throat."
To anchor their descent, the Dwarf found a thick tree near the mouth of the pit, wrapped a sturdy hemp rope around its trunk, tested the knot with a hard tug, and nodded with satisfaction.
"Alright, lad. Let's see what's waiting for us below."
With that, he swung himself over the edge, boots scraping against rock as he slid down. Henry followed shortly after, lowering himself carefully hand over hand.
The drop wasn't too deep—perhaps ten meters—but once both their feet touched the damp floor, the air changed. It was heavier here, thick with the musk of earth and the faint hiss of movement just beyond the edge of light.
The tunnel ahead stretched wide—four meters tall, three meters across. Wide enough for a battle, or for something enormous to slither through without effort.
Henry snapped his fingers. "Louise, it's your turn."
With a gentle flash, a small figure appeared near his shoulder—a Pixie, no taller than his hand, her wings fluttering like glass petals. She carried a tiny stick, its tip glowing softly with Light cantrip.
"Yes!" she chirped, her voice like the chime of silver bells.
"Scout ahead. Stay hidden. Report back if you spot any movement—or if you feel tremors."
The Pixie saluted midair and vanished into the dark. Her glow shimmered once, then disappeared completely as she cloaked herself in invisibility.
Henry and Kegan waited at the base of the rope, checking weapons and equipment. The Dwarf adjusted his armor straps, muttering a brief prayer to Moradin, while Henry prepared a few spell scrolls.
Minutes dragged by until the faint hum of wings returned. The Pixie reappeared, landing lightly on Henry's shoulder.