Chapter 5: The Runaway Plan

Barely having turned the street corner, Olon already felt a twinge of regret.

In truth, a moment of calm reflection would have revealed that his anger stemmed less from his mentor and more from himself. He had been shouting about independence, about not needing to rely on anyone, yet when the critical moment arrived, he had still shamelessly "called for his parents," hadn't he?

But the pride of his rebellious phase would not allow him to turn back and apologize, nor did he want to go home. Yet, even if he didn't go home, he realized there was nowhere else to go. At that thought, Olon wanted to slap himself. How could someone who couldn't even decide where to go or what to do on his own claim to be independent?

Spurred by an inexplicable sense of competitiveness, Olon decided to run away from home for a while. In a sense, it would be a test of his own capabilities. As for the location, he would stay within the city of Loc Lac; leaving the city would be crossing the line from running away to something far more serious.

The trouble was, his daily necessities and change of clothes were still at home. And shouldn't he at least notify his mentor to keep her from worrying? No, if he were to plan that meticulously, it wouldn't be running away—it would just be going on a trip.

The first priority now was a plan. No matter the task, a well-thought-out plan significantly increases the success rate. Olon checked his belongings on the spot. He had just returned from hunting, so he was still wearing his armor, and the rations in his item pouch were not yet exhausted; with some rationing, they could last him two or three days. But living on dry rations could hardly be called independence.

He weighed his coin purse. He had money, as he had just settled his quest rewards and sold some unused materials to the Guild. Since he had funds, the difficulty of the situation was greatly reduced. The first thing to secure was lodging.

The safest bet would be to rent a short-term single room at the Gathering Hall tavern. As a novice hunter, he could secure a very affordable room. But the biggest drawback to staying at the Gathering Hall was that someone would surely tell his mentor, and he would promptly be hauled home.

Ruled out.

"Haa—" Olon let out a heavy breath.

It was far too late, and finding lodging anywhere would be difficult. He decided to just find somewhere to make do for the night, though it was a bit chilly. Desert regions have massive temperature fluctuations between day and night, and even if the city was relatively sheltered, the night breeze still felt biting.

"Ah, right." Olon looked in a certain direction.

A colossal fossilized fang, over a hundred meters tall, stood in the northern sector of Loc Lac. It was the symbol of the city. Before humanity arrived and built this sand-swept metropolis, Loc Lac had been a massive rock plateau, covering over a dozen square kilometers in the heart of the sea of sand.

That pillar-like giant fang had stood on the plateau since the ancient eras, long before the birth of mankind. The fang pierced through the rock, and the clear spring water that welled up from beneath it formed a lake that never dried up, even in the most arid seasons. The original Loc Lac had been a settlement established by nomadic desert tribes who wandered there and gathered around the lake.

What magnificent creature had once possessed that fossilized fang? How had it become embedded in the plateau? What was its connection to that eternal lake? These were all mysteries.

Olon had no intention of solving them. He simply remembered that the lakeside was equipped with benches and facilities for the tourists who came to visit. Furthermore, the lake retained the heat absorbed from the sun throughout the day, making the temperature near the shore slightly warmer than elsewhere at night. If he was going to sleep on the streets, that was the most suitable place.

Olon was a man of action; once he had a direction, he moved immediately. Although he wasn't born in this city, he had lived here for nearly a decade and had even worked as a guide for travelers; he knew every hidden alleyway. After weaving through the streets, he soon arrived at the great lake. The giant fang stood in the center of the water, which rippled under the night breeze, and the spacious, paved lakeside path felt welcoming. Familiar sights always helped him relax.

He found a random bench and lay down, pulling his armor tight. The exhaustion accumulated from the hunt and the fatigue of two sleepless days washed over him, and within seconds, he drifted into a heavy slumber.

...

Two furry paws rested on his face, prying his eyelids open.

Startled awake, Olon sat up abruptly, knocking the little creature off his chest and causing it to let out a shriek.

"Meow—!"

Still groggy, he looked up. The sky was turning pale, but the sun hadn't fully risen yet. Was it already morning?

"Hey!"

An indignant cry rang out. Olon realized a person was standing in front of the bench, arms crossed, glaring at him.

"This is no place to sleep, young drunkard!"

"Meow!"

The Felyne, having tumbled to the ground when he sat up, was also standing with its hands on its hips, looking at him angrily.

Olon stared blankly at the woman. She appeared to be quite young, though her face was obscured by a veil, making her exact age hard to judge. It wasn't her youth that stunned him, but the uniform she wore.

Dominated by yellow and off-white tones, crafted from leather and sturdy fabric, this light armor was instantly recognizable to any Loc Lac native.

It was the Citadel Scout set, the specialized gear of the Citadel Patrol. The Citadel Patrol was an official organization established under the leadership of the Loc Lac Guild Master—the very same mustachioed old man from the night before. They were essentially the local city guards, responsible for daily law and order, patrols, and guarding merchant caravans. When monsters attacked, they were the final line of defense for the citizens, earning the deep trust of the Loc Lac residents.

Because they occasionally had to fight off monsters like Velociprey or Remobra that infiltrated the city, most members of the Patrol were hunters themselves, though usually of lower rank. Many novice hunters chose to hone their skills in the Patrol for a few years, and there were countless examples of people who started there and grew into renowned hunters after gaining independence.

For these reasons, unless one was a criminal with a guilty conscience, one couldn't help but feel a sense of goodwill toward those in the Citadel Patrol uniform. Olon was no exception.

He lowered his head, feeling embarrassed. "I apologize. I couldn't find a place to stay last night and was too exhausted, so I slept here. As for being a drunkard, I haven't been drinking."

The girl from the Patrol paused, leaning in to sniff him. Sure enough, there was no scent of alcohol. She used the dim morning light to study his expression and his armor. He didn't look like he was lying, and he seemed even younger than her—perhaps not even an adult yet? The iconic novice hunter armor showed clear signs of wear, with bloodstains he hadn't yet had time to clean. Had he just returned from the field?

He hadn't found a place to sleep... Was it because he failed a quest and had no reward money, so he couldn't afford lodging? He was likely starving, too.

How pathetic!

The look of annoyance in the girl's eyes vanished, replaced by pity, sympathy, and an inexplicable sense of responsibility that made Olon feel uneasy. She grabbed his hand and hauled him off the bench.

"Come on! I'll buy you breakfast, and then I'll find you a place to stay!"

Olon: "?"