Rowan stood in front of the request board longer than necessary.
The lowest-rank section was crowded with paper scraps—simple handwriting, small rewards, short distances. Most of the requests looked… ordinary.
That was exactly what he wanted.
He scanned them carefully.
Herb collection near the eastern stream.
Delivery to a neighboring village.
Assist with fence repairs after storm damage.
No monsters. No danger levels marked in red. No attention.
Rowan reached up and took down the delivery request.
Simple. Quiet. Safe.
---
The road leading out of the village was narrow but well-worn, flanked by grass that swayed gently in the breeze. Rowan walked at an unhurried pace, a small satchel resting at his side. Inside were sealed letters and a wrapped parcel—nothing fragile, nothing valuable.
Perfect.
As he walked, he kept his awareness inward, maintaining the same careful restraint he'd practiced since the forest. The power inside him felt distant now, like something sleeping beneath layers of still water.
Stay calm, he reminded himself. Stay small.
The destination village wasn't far. Smoke curled from chimneys, and the faint sound of conversation drifted through the air. Rowan slowed as he approached, already planning how quickly he could hand over the package and leave.
That was when he noticed the problem.
A wooden cart lay overturned near the road's edge, one wheel broken clean through. A man stood beside it, rubbing the back of his neck, his expression caught somewhere between frustration and defeat.
Rowan hesitated.
He could walk past. The request didn't say anything about assisting travelers.
But the road was partially blocked.
And the man had noticed him.
"Hey," the man called out. "You there—are you an adventurer?"
Rowan paused. Then nodded once. "Yes."
The man let out a breath of relief. "Good. I don't need muscle—just a little help. Wheel snapped when I hit a rock."
Rowan stepped closer, examining the damage. The axle was intact. The break was clean.
Simple fix, he thought.
Too simple.
"Do you have tools?" Rowan asked.
"A hammer and rope," the man said. "Not enough to lift it back up on my own."
Rowan nodded. "Stand back."
He placed a hand against the side of the cart.
Carefully.
He didn't push. He didn't pull.
He imagined support—just enough to steady the weight while the man worked.
The cart shifted.
Not violently. Not dramatically.
It rose a few inches off the ground and held.
Rowan froze.
That's too much.
The man stared, eyes wide. "I—did you see that?"
Rowan released immediately.
The cart dropped back into place with a dull thud.
"…You're strong," the man said, uncertain.
Rowan stepped back. "Just leverage," he said quickly. "Angle and timing."
The explanation sounded thin, even to his own ears.
But the man didn't press.
Together, they worked quickly. The rope held. The wheel was secured enough to move again.
When they finished, the man wiped his hands on his trousers. "Thanks. Saved me a long walk."
Rowan nodded. "Take care."
He turned and left without waiting for further conversation.
---
The delivery went smoothly after that.
The village was smaller, quieter. Rowan handed over the package, received his confirmation mark, and didn't linger.
It was only on the way back that the unease settled in.
He replayed the moment in his mind.
He hadn't meant to lift the cart.
He hadn't even focused properly.
And yet the world had responded.
Rowan slowed his steps.
This keeps happening, he realized. Even when I try not to act.
By the time he returned to the guild, the sun was already dipping low in the sky.
He submitted the completed request and accepted the modest reward without comment.
"First job?" the attendant asked.
"Yes."
She nodded. "You'll get used to it."
Rowan wasn't sure that was true.
As he stepped outside again, the familiar warmth stirred in his chest—gentler than before, but unmistakable.
This time, he didn't stop walking.
He just listened.
Not with his ears.
With something deeper.
The presence didn't speak. It didn't push.
It simply acknowledged him.
Rowan exhaled slowly.
"I'm not ready," he murmured under his breath.
The warmth pulsed once, faintly.
Not in agreement.
But in patience.
Rowan looked ahead, toward the fading road and the quiet evening settling over the village.
His first job had been simple.
Quiet.
And still, something had noticed.
He tightened his grip on the guild tag in his pocket.
If this was what "small" looked like…
He didn't want to imagine what would happen when he stopped holding back.