Cain was awakened by a voice.

It was neither a magical nor a mystical one, just a loud conversation from the next room. Sounds like people arguing… His mood soured when he returned from his peaceful slumber because of some trivial unwelcome interruption. Still, he had slept for a few hours and his body had rested enough to shed the fatigue clinging to it. Cain looked outside and found it was near dusk.

The ‘reading’ made him tired, it was akin to mental exercise. He fell asleep naturally after a while, possessing knowledge he had not before.

Mmmnn, my proficiency at soul search is still low. The memory I glimpse is random, fragmented, and often too blurry. Need more practice then. At least it’s not reducing the soul to insanity now. A quick check… 31.15%.

Cain felt the needs of the body and went to the toilet, bringing his sword with him. As he closed the door of his room, he gave a look of annoyance to the next room. Like I thought, not home sweet home…

In the hallway, there was a window. A series of uniformly dull sounds made him look sideways to the lawn. Under the dusk sky, a girl strung her bow. Her form was disciplined, and so there was beauty in it. She held still for a moment, eyes focused on the target. She loosened the arrow and the target practice was shot in the center. It was almost full at this point, arrows after arrows were embedded on the wooden target.

The girl’s face didn’t change, showed no joy or accomplishment. She simply took the next arrow and nocked it to her bow again.

Cain kept going to the toilet. He did his business, washed his hands, rechecked his appearance, and splashed water onto his face a little bit before going to the lawn. Grooming oneself to look tidy before meeting someone was simply good manners, in his opinion.

He approached her slowly, treading on the short grass as softly as possible. He didn’t want to distract her practice.

“How about you take a break?” Cain said to the dark-haired girl after she finished loosening an arrow.

Irene lowered her bow and turned her body in his direction. Beads of sweat filled her brows and she seemed a bit out of breath. Nevertheless, her eyes were filled with drive.

“Practice makes perfect,” Irene replied coldly.

“It does. And practicing until your hand bleeds should suffice for the day. We have a quest tomorrow, remember?”

The fingers on her right hand were scraped until they bled. Too many arrows had been loosened by that hand.

She didn’t answer back but she sat on a tree stump like it was a chair. There was a waterskin near it, Irene sipped a few mouthfuls from it. Cain approached the wooden target she peppered with arrows to take a closer look at it.

I should learn archery.

“Nice shots, you’re a marksman? Err, markswoman? Or hunter? Huntress?” Corrected Cain a few times. He wasn’t really sure the proper form of address.

“My father was, and my brother,” she wiped her sweat. “I’m just practicing what my father taught me.”

“Mmm,” Cain pulled the arrows from the target carefully to not break them. “Sounds like a good father.”

“…You’re a swordsman?” Irene asked after a period of silence, looking at the sword Cain had in his hand.

“I’d like to think so. Still in the process of becoming one, I think,” Cain said.

“…Are you going to practice too?” She asked.

“Hm? Oh no, I just prefer my weapon close by. I make a habit of it, might be the difference between life and death one day.”

Cain just said it on the fly but it seemed to strike something in Irene.

“…Lena said you’ve slain monsters, is that true?”

“Just a few, and that’s including the rats I killed in my house’s cellar,” Cain replied, completely honest. At this point, he had fought and killed more humans than monsters. Depending on how one looked at it, the count was at a staggering amount.

“You have been around then,” the girl with gloomy countenance said, completely misunderstanding that Cain was being humble. “Where are you from?”

“From Ur village, south of here. It's a little village in a secluded location so you might not know it,” Cain lied. That village did not exist on any map nor known by any living soul.

“...Have you seen a three-eyed wolf?” Irene asked with a glimmer of hope in her eyes.

“No, never heard or seen it.” Cain gathered the arrows and put them in her almost-empty quiver.

“I see,” Irene already half expected the negative answer. “If you see one, please inform me.”

“I’ll keep an eye out,” Cain said. “What’s your deal with it?” He picked up something from her words.

“It killed my father and brother,” Irene replied with an icy tone.

“Ah, my condolences then… Is it the reason you picked up the bow? For revenge?”

“What about it?” Her eyes turned hostile. “You also think I can't do it?”

“Nothing is impossible in this world. I think you have a fair chance of accomplishing it. From your hands, I could see you haven’t been using a bow for long but your aim is spot on,” Cain pointed at the now empty target. “You’re also stronger than the other boy, Olie was it? Anyway, you have a good prospect if I say so myself.”

Irene had a faint change of expression that subdued quickly. It was like her feelings had a hard time showing themselves. Cain was starting to get an idea about the girl he just met. He figured the passing of her father and brother was fairly recent and she’s still in the process of coping with it, thus the doom and gloom face. The desire for revenge must be an outlet for her grief.

“So, tell me more about this three-eyed wolf. What is its Level? What color is its fur, size, method to kill, things like that.”

“…It was night and the village was dim, I couldn’t look at it well. It was as big as a horse and its fur was dark-colored. The most notable feature was its eyes. The existence of a third eye on its forehead, all three were bright red like hellfire… The first and last time I saw it, it had the head of my father in its maw. The weak me was frozen by the sight. The wolf looked at me for a moment, then ran like the wind, fading into the darkness.”

Irene narrated her experience with the wolf, clenching her right hand tightly.

“You don’t know at what Level it was?” Cain asked, trying to not cause unnecessary pain for the girl.

“No. I only know it was beyond me, above Level 0.”

“Then I’ll tell you the bad news first. Even if it’s Level 1, the best-case scenario, you won’t be able to kill it soon. You’re too weak. Prepare yourself for a long hunt. Not to mention it most likely has a higher Level than 1 and the lack of clue to find it. This revenge you seek… might cost you years, maybe more.”

“…”

Irene was silent but Cain knew mere words from a stranger she basically knew from less than a day wouldn’t be able to sway her.

“Another warning, fighting monsters as adventurers is a dangerous job. Most newbies die in their first year. You didn’t enter the Training Center, right? That is another of your dilemmas. If you want to have your revenge on that three-eyed wolf, you must survive first.”

The Training Center was like a prep-school for would-be adventurers. In the course of one year, the kids were taught basic adventurer knowledge and building their foundation as Pathseeker. But the price of enrolling was quite steep so only the more financially capable were able to put their kids in one. Clearly, Irene was not so lucky.

A cold wind blew, the light of day grew fainter as the sun slowly set.

“Two pieces of advice I got for you. One, get into a good party as soon as you can during your beginner days. On this you’re quite fortunate, Lena seems trustworthy and experienced. Two, learn how to fight in close-range.”

“…I want to kill the wolf with the archery my father taught me,” Irene’s eyes were indomitable… or stubborn, Cain couldn’t tell the difference.

“By all means, polish your archery. But you should have ways to defend yourself when enemies come close. Monsters… or people!” Suddenly, Cain pulled his sword and bared it at her neck, stopping a few centimeters from her skin. Irene looked shocked mixed with a bit of fear.

“If that wolf is Level 2 or above, then naturally you must have a similar Level to have a chance of defeating it. However, remember what the road that we Pathseeker walk is called? The Path of Power… and at some point in that path, you’ll face other people. Whether you choose to or not,” Cain said solemnly.

“To be a Level 2 is not easy, let alone the higher Levels above it. The farther you go on the Path of Power, the bloodier it gets. Conflict between fellow Pathseekers is inevitable. Humans can be viler than monsters and devils. There are Pathseekers that see Idlers as an inferior race. Even further, Pathseekers that treat those below their Level as cattle. Killing cattle was not a big deal for them, ending lives they deemed lesser than their own is no different from squashing ants. Irene, have you killed other humans before? Are you prepared for that?” Cain spoke while looking Irene straight in the eye.

“When you face other humans, targeting the healers, wizards, and archers first is a matter of course. Just like what I’m doing now. It doesn’t matter whether you’re using knives, swords, shields, spells, bare hands, or even using your very bow and arrow. Learn ways to defend yourself in close-quarter combat, for we only have one life.”

He removed his blue sword from her neck and returned it to its sheath. “Do you understand now?”

“…W–”

“Hm?”

“What are you getting cocky for! You’re the same Level 0 as me and you scold me like I am a little girl! I might not be from somewhere far away but just because you are, do you think it automatically makes you a big-shot or something!? I know what you said! I already understand it without you telling me! Get off your high horse!”

Irene was red-faced and fuming. Like something past a boiling point, she blew up. Cain was taken aback for a moment. Frankly, he expected her to accept his advice and a thank you. Certainly not an outburst of scorn. Then again, when Cain looked back…

“…Heheh, Bwahahahah!” Cain laughed heartily. “Ahahaaha!! Oh, what a fabulous day! Merrily, merrily! ”

Irene’s anger rose again. She thought Cain was mocking her. Before she opened her mouth, Cain opened his first.

“You’re right! What was I thinking, getting cocky like that? Wahahah, what do the likes of me know? Did my nose grow longer? Khekhekhe,” Cain kept laughing like he was hearing comedy gold.

The truth was, Cain forgot he hid his true Level. Irene could only sense he was a Level 0. And he admitted he looked down on Irene because of his many superiorities.

“Aqua Heal,” he suddenly cast an Arte.

Irene’s bloodied fingers were covered with water out of nowhere, enveloping her wounds. She felt nice and cool. After a few seconds, her fingers were healed.

“My apologies for the boastful talk earlier, my lady,” Cain politely bowed like a gentleman. “It’s not much but please accept the healing as my token of apology. The day is late, this one shall take his leave. Until tomorrow, my fair lady.”

As he left, he hummed the London Bridge nursery rhyme. He held no bitterness and was genuinely pleased. He didn’t sing aloud the lyrics, only the melody.

London Bridge is falling down,

Falling down, falling down.

London Bridge is falling down,

My fair lady.

Irene was left alone on the lawn with a confused look.

“What the heck was that?”