Finally Found the Newbie

"This is a problem. We can't assign this mission to a Bronze-rank adventurer."

Sisilia visited the Adventurer Guild and smiled with satisfaction.

'It's running smoothly.'

Behind the counter was, without fail, a pretty receptionist. Requests were posted on the massive bulletin board, and adventurers brought them to the counter on their own. And most importantly, dessert sales targeted at adventurers.

"Fresh strawberry pie for adventurers, right here!"

Thanks to that, the guild buzzed with energy.

Sisilia sliced the pie with her fork and took a dainty bite. "Thanks for the meal."

"You hyped up the strawberry pie so much, but you're barely eating any."

Surprisingly, Sisilia was a light eater. Beatrice, who'd been hanging around with her, had never seen her finish more than half a serving.

But ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠today, there was a different reason.

"Gotta try one of everything they sell here."

"......All you can eat is that one strawberry pie."

Sisilia's eyes widened. Why...?

"Anyway, this is bad."

"Huh?"

Beatrice sighed deeply at her thinning gold pouch.

"I blew most of our gold on that carriage last time. After this pie, we won't even have one gold left."

Sisilia carefully sliced with her knife. "We can earn more, so it's fine."

"......You're not saying we should take a request, are you?"

"No work, no food. So I'll eat Betty's strawberries."

"That's not right at all."

Sisilia ate a piece of strawberry pie and patted her puffed-up belly. Of course, Beatrice's plate had been empty for a while now. Sisilia ate at a snail's pace.

"Thanks for the meal."

Beatrice had nagged her to keep eating, but after barely finishing a fifth in an hour, she was annoyed.

"Now, shall we go find a newbie to seize control of the eastern region?"

"Sure... Wait, what?! Hold on a sec."

Beatrice clung to Sisilia, who was ready to act immediately, and whispered softly.

"You're serious?"

"Yeah?"

"Even so, turning a user into a major eastern noble? Qualifications aside, the backlash would be huge."

"That's for them to handle."

Sisilia's decisions were always swift. And her judgment here was that the board was already out of her hands.

'My role ends at giving the 'Become the King of the East!' quest.'

Whether they completed it or not was entirely up to the newbie.

"B-but."

"Betty. We've done plenty already."

Above all, Sisilia felt she'd gone above and beyond. She'd shipped off those two greedy nobles to the capital and culled anyone who might cause real trouble. To go further, she'd need to do something so overwhelming no one could complain—but shocking the massacre-hardened east would require killing thousands in one strike. She could, but Sisilia wasn't a butcher. Unless she was a demon, she had no reason or desire to claim that many lives.

"This is our best. No objections."

Sisilia smiled faintly, but her voice carried weight. Beatrice felt scolded and mumbled glumly.

"Y-yeah...."

"Then let's form a party?"

Standing before the request board, Sisilia scanned around with sparkling eyes.

"Business sucks this week."

"It's just goblins anyway."

"When will my adventurer rank go up~?"

"Orcs seem doable, right?"

Newbies deep in serious thought. Adorably lovable.

'Good call making the Adventurer Guild.'

Sisilia felt proud as she eyed one side of the board. It was the party recruitment section.

Even in the relatively demon-safe east, dungeons existed, of course. Though they were places even the Windsor Knights rarely dispatched to, since the levels weren't that high.

Still, checking these revealed talent. Sisilia was more veteran than anyone. She could tell at a glance if someone knew the game just by size.

-Orc Village Extermination!

-Need Tank x3, Healer x1! Mage here. Total noobs, don't apply.

"Ha?"

"W-why are you looking so scary?"

'N-newbie, might not know better.'

Sisilia smiled awkwardly and checked the next one.

-Need help leveling Alchemy. Experts only.

"Betty. Is PK allowed between adventurers?"

"......Don't say ominous stuff. Of course not."

"Then remember the name."

"Scary!"

Sisilia whipped her head around. Next one, and the next...!

Only newbies failing her standards. Party job ratios? Fine, warriors were tough to control—like group project pariahs. But their mindset was rotten.

"Stuff I couldn't even imagine back in my day."

Like parties wanting to farm just floor 1 of a maze dungeon. All-newbie groups excluding newbies. Everything grated.

'Gotta swing by the academy on the way back. Shouldn't have left it to Dad. Mental training is... tsk tsk.'

Little boomer Sisilia's mouth twisted about 20 degrees.

But—one caught her eye.

"The one who wrote this... doesn't seem to want a party much."

Beatrice shivered at the stiff handwriting. If she were an adventurer, she'd avoid this one like the plague.

But Sisilia's eyes locked on one line.

-Warrior class welcome.

"......!"

Sisilia pressed her cheek to the notice, drumming it excitedly. "Gotta be an amazing person. Betty, this one."

"People are staring, Sisilia."

"They're all thinking it's cute~"

Nearby adventurers nodded subtly. Beatrice slumped.

"......It is cute."

No wonder she fell for scams. Once she saw something good, nothing else registered.

Aiden Hofen. Descendant of the Sword Saint Cheonma, who dominated an era 200 years ago—and now the sole heir of a fallen house.

The Hofen family's downfall began after the previous Sword Saint Cheonma vanished. Rumors said the Demon King killed him, or he fled fearing the hero. What was certain: Queen Lydia back then was unprecedentedly furious. Sparing the Hofens and exiling them east was a miracle.

Even in exile, the Sword Saint's descendants made a name. But blood thinned over generations, leaving scant talent by modern times. Partly due to sabotage and checks from eastern houses—but 11 years ago, the Hofens fully crumbled.

A Lancaster-York joint effort. Five years ago, their remaining forces ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠were wiped out. Left: 18-year-old Aiden and his guard knight Raoul.

"With such filthy blood, you couldn't even hide the stench properly."

Fallen or not, Sword Saint blood. York feared; Lancaster didn't slack. The rivals hounded Aiden relentlessly, their orders lingering like ghosts even after the nobles vanished.

Now, they'd caught him.

"How—did you know?"

"Figured you'd head to Greyslam eventually. So we killed everyone going that way."

"Trying to avoid suspicion backfired, huh."

The twenty knights smirked.

"Finally ending this five-year mission. Grateful we can fulfill our lord's final order despite losing him."

"Hahaha!"

Aiden laughed suddenly. Scarred Raoul, facing them, glanced back, breathing ragged. No escape. Dead end.

'Die here?'

Tears welled—not sorrow, but laughter. The absurdity of it all, his pathetic self, was hilarious.

'Not even avenging my family, let alone my parents' killers?'

He'd sworn vengeance on York and Lancaster, to revive Hofen. But reality: dying unrecognized in a cold alley.

'Can't even handle twenty knights, yet dreamed of toppling two great houses?'

He couldn't accept it.

"Still, Sword Saint blood is fearsome. At that age, you gave us trouble. If not for our lord's gift, it'd have been dangerous."

The knight grinned, raising his right hand. Black tattoo with complex patterns: Four Heavenly King Ashumar's mark. Their power source—his grace. A human traitor to humanity.

"Who's filthy? Power bought selling souls to demons."

"Insolent. I said it's from my lord."

"Think you'll get away with this?!"

Raoul bellowed.

"Hahaha! Hoping Windsor Knights save you? Too bad. Even if they came, they couldn't touch us."

The knight drew his sword. Ominous black aura surged.

"This power surpasses Windsor Knights. Even Sword King William, you'd beg to join us."

Power overflowed; suppressing the urge to flaunt was hard. Pitiful—their long-sought prey was so weak.

"......I expect nothing from Windsor trash."

Aiden muttered low, rising. Heavily wounded, standing was agony.

"They're the queen's dogs. Won't move without orders! I don't need those mongrels' help!"

Aiden had met Windsor—ignored his desperate pleas. Gallerhead Windsor. No expectations since.

Escape this crisis with his own power.

"Cheonma Divine Art."

The Hofen secret technique—even weak Aiden risked life for its first form. He uttered it.

"Pashinjang."

His sword flashed like lightning. The knight blocked sneering—but Aiden aimed beyond.

Boom!

Sword clash sent shockwaves. Five or six knights clutched hearts, vomiting blood, collapsing.

"Cough."

Aiden fared no better, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠bleeding out, falling.

"C-crazy."

Knights gulped. Only five down; fifteen left. But awe for the boy showing such power.

'Patriarch was right to order Hofen extermination.'

As they moved to finish him—

"Bullying the weak is bad."

A clear, serene girl's voice echoed in the alley.

"W-weak? After that? Who the hell are you?!"

From the corner: silver-haired girl in white dress, enigmatic smile.

"I'm... S-Sisilia... with a sword."

"......What?"

Sisilia blushed.

'Fumbled the line.'

Life's biggest flub. Too rusty from slacking?

She blamed the foes' ugliness for ruining her cool entrance.

"You who bully the weak—my holy sword won't forgive you."

"H-holy sword? Looks like a plain longsword."

Bought from a random shop ten minutes ago. Spot on.

Sisilia charged the sharp-eyed knights.

"......Young master. You see it?"

Raoul muttered dazedly at the sight.

Sisilia's moves: utterly simple. Minimal motion, minimal blade path. But peak efficiency—an art. Beautiful.

Raoul had never seen such swordplay.

"Yeah. What I did... wasn't swordsmanship."

Aiden agreed. No confusion at the sudden savior—just entranced by her beauty.

"Good thing I wasn't late."

Sisilia approached Aiden, last foe neatly felled. Black hair, black eyes—eastern features reflected in her clear silver gaze.

"Bad wounds."

Dark night, faint moonlight. But shadows couldn't dim her radiant silver.

"You okay? User."

Aiden knew instinctively: he'd never forget this girl offering her hand, even on his deathbed.