he capital, Rehere are several famous hunting grounds. These areas are so well-known that even Libertà is familiar with them. For adventurers, these hunting grounds are lucrative enough to earn a det living from the drops they yield. This is precisely why they are famous and why people flock to them.

  This is the Goblin Forest.

  A unique forest where the goblin species is born. Tall trees densely popute the area, with narrow animal trails scattered throughout, occasionally opening up into small clearings.

  "Gya gya gya!"

  "Die!"

  Here, a slightly chubby boy is desperately swinging a dagger, sughtering a small, green-skinned creature with tiny horns—a goblin.

  "Haa, haa, haa..."

  leather armor, the boy watches as the defeated goblin dissolves into bck ash.

  "That was amazing, Dassé! You’re totally handling these goblins with ease now!"

  Dassé had just taken down three goblins all by himself.

  "Hmph! These guys are no mate alone!"

  Though he tried to appear posed, his heavy breathing, sweaty forehead, and the way he gulped down water from a pouch at his waist betrayed his exhaustion.

  "Tch, hey, give me your water."

  "Huh? I don’t have a. You just drank it all."

  The boys apanying him also wield daggers. The size of the ons is just right for their small frames, and they afford them sihey’re sedhand. Their leather armor is also low-grade and well-worn from use.

  Their equipment is shoddy, and the levels of Dassé’s panions are uneven because he insists on taking down the prey himself without letting them tribute. The gap in strength between them is gradually widening, and Dassé has even started taking their rations.

  "Tch, fine. Let’s go to the river to get more water."

  "Ah, okay."

  "Got it."

  Dassé leads the two halfling boys, stomping noisily through the forest without a care for stealth, heading toward the river. The halfling boys, however, are nervously gng around, terrified.

  Goblins are notoriously aggressive.

  "D-Dassé! Over there!"

  "Huh? Damn it, not now!"

  The halfling boy had spotted two goblins. Upon seeing the children, the goblins grinned maliciously and charged at them with twisted ughter. However, these low-level goblins are unarmed, relying only on their uneven, sharp teeth and dirty, rown cws.

  "Don’t get in my way!"

  For Dassé, who has been fighting here for a while, these goblins are manageable.

  "See? This is nothing!"

  Though it costs him some fatigue, he still take them down. If he had worked with his panions, the fight would have been easier. They, too, have been training and gaining levels. Low-level goblins are within their ability to defeat. However, they only step in to help when Dassé is overwhelmed.

  "You’re amazing! At this rate, you’ll definitely pass the entrance exam for the academy!"

  But they don’t question this dynamic.

  "Of course! I’m going to be a future hero!"

  Dassé is the one leveling up, while the others are just along for the ride. This is all because of a national decree calling for the search for heroes.

  Just the other day, the royal pace issued a procmation to the entire try. It annouhat the South National Academy, previously accessible only to nobles and a few wealthy merts, would now admit oners. This academy is funded by the state to nurture talented adventurers. Simply gaining admission is an honor, and graduating guarantees reition as a skilled adventurer, with the possibility of seg important positions in the gover. Regur exams are required, but they also provide ranks that determihe level of financial support from the state for adventuring.

  Unlike freence adventurers, graduates are treated as national civil servants with a stable sary.

  Upon hearing this, Dassé’s parents urged him to level up to gain admission. For Dassé, who dreams of being a hero, this was aig opportunity, ahrew himself into it enthusiastically.

  The Goblin Forest has watchtowers and barracks for soldiers. Dassé’s father, using his authority as a captain, arranged for his son and his friends to ride in the soldiers’ supply wagons, allowing them to travel bad forth easily.

  Thus, despite being just children, they ehe forest almost daily.

  "My level’s almost 15! At this rate, I’ll be able to go deeper into the Goblin Forest and easily pass the South Academy’s entrance exam!"

  Despite the risks and the fact that he’s too young to earn much money or hahe dangers, Dassé is determined.

  "Hahahahaha!"

  But the Goblin Forest is famous not just among oners.

  "What’s this? I thought I heard some straalk, and it turns out to be the epitome of foolishness. A oner like you thinks you pass the South Academy’s exam? How utterly ridiculous."

  Noble children also e here to hunt.

  pared to Dassé and his two panions, the noble children are apanied by knights aeran adventurers as guards, equipped with splendid armor and swords. It’s an overwhelming show of force, almost excessive for hunting goblins. Libertà would have scoffed at such overpreparation.

  A noble boy, pristine, expensive armor, sneers down at Dassé.

  "What did you say!?"

  "Dassé, don’t! He’s a noble!"

  "Yeah! If you provoke him, who knows what he’ll do!"

  Tensions rise. Dassé, provoked, grabs the hilt of his dagger, but the knights immediately react. His panions g to him, stopping him.

  Even though his blood is boiling, he mao calm down a little.

  "Tch."

  With a click of his tongue, he turns to leave.

  "Hey, you oner! How dare you click your to me? That’s beyond rude. Go on, cut him down."

  "Yes, but... such a small child isn’t worth dirtying our bdes. If we leave him be, the goblins will take care of him. o stain your hands with his blood."

  However, the noble boy, unwilling to let a oner’s disrespect slide, orders his knights to kill Dassé.

  To kill a child’s life without a sed thought.

  The noble’s sense of superiority, believing themselves above the w, is on full dispy.

  Dassé grits his teeth, gring at the knights who speak as if he’s beh their notice. His panions, pale-faced, desperately tug at his clothes, urging him to leave.

  "That’s true. I don’t have time to waste on a fool whles with goblins and boasts about being a hero."

  The knight deliberately uses insulting words to appease the noble and divert his attention. Unaware of the knight’s i, Dassé ches his teeth in frustration, gring at them. Satisfied with his rea, the noble boy leads his ente deeper into the forest.

  The deeper you go, the strohe goblins bee.

  As if to say, "You’re not ready for this," the noble boy marches off with his rge ente.

  The boys stand frozen, watg until the noble’s back disappears.

  "Haaaaah..."

  The two halfling boys sigh in relief, grateful that the troublesome noble is gone.

  "Damn it!!"

  Then, Dassé, who had been holding back his anger, stomps the ground in frustration.

  "That brat called me a fool!? A noble brat who ’t do anything without his knights! You’d be nothing on your own!!!"

  He stomps the grouedly, trying to vent his anger, but it’s no use.

  "D-Dassé, if you make too muoise..."

  "Yeah! The goblins will..."

  Shouting and making loud noises is a bad idea in the Goblin Forest, even if the danger level is low.

  "Gya gya gya!"

  The familiar goblin cries and their twisted grins.

  "Eek!? There are ten of them!?"

  "L-Let’s run!"

  "Shut up! What’s a few goblins to a future hero like me!?"

  The goblins are unarmed, but there are many of them.

  As his panions suggested, running would be the wise choice.

  But in Dassé’s mind, an image fshes—a boy calmly wielding a bamboo spear, utterly defeating him in the past. That memnites a reckless determination.

  "I’m going to be a hero!!"

  This isn’t resolve. It’s stubbornness. This isn’t ce. It’s recklessness.

  Dassé charges into the goblin horde without a sed thought.

  The brawl begins with Dassé swinging his dagger at the goblin.

  "Hey, what do we do?"

  "What do you mean?"

  The two panions are frozen in fear as the fight breaks out.

  At first, Dassé holds his own, but the sheer numbers begin to overwhelm him.

  "W-We have to help him."

  "But if we get in the way, he’ll get mad."

  "Yeah, but..."

  The goblins grab his arms, bite him, and pull at his legs.

  Though Dassé is rger thahers, it’s only by child standards. His size advantage is minimal.

  "Hey! What are you standing around for!? Help me!!"

  Though he’s experienced in bat, it’s only within the fines of his limited world. His sword training from his father is nothing more thaaught basics.

  When pushed to the brink, his strength is only enough to rely on others.

  "Y-Yes!!"

  "Take this!"

  The two panions finally join the fight, and the battle evens out—barely. It’s a messy, ugly struggle.

  "Haa, haa, haa, haa..."

  In the end, they barely win, covered in scratches, bite marks, and mud. Their stamina is nearly depleted.

  Kneeling, leaning against trees, or lying sprawled on the ground, they desperately try to catch their breath. The life-ah struggle has drained even the boundless energy of children.

  There’s no room for boasting or c in fear. All they do is focus ohing.

  The fact that they didn’t suffer fatal injuries is a stroke of luck.

  "Hey, go get some water."

  "Huh?"

  "I’m thirsty. I’m tired, so you go get it."

  But Dassé doesn’t appreciate their luck. He thinks only of his own exhaustion and tosses a water pouch to one of his panions, him to fetch water.

  "But... I’m still too tired to move. And going alone in the forest is..."

  Even a child knows that wandering the Goblin Forest alone is dangerous. The panion knows he’s not strong enough to ha.

  "Shut up! I said I’m thirsty! Go get it! If you don’t want to go aloake him with you!"

  "Huh? Why me?"

  "Just go!"

  "Y-Yes..."

  Dassé doesn’t listen to anyone who tradicts him. He’s frustrated after being mocked by the noble boy and theien up by the goblins. This reality has made him irritable, and he o longer trol his impulses.

  "Damn weaklings."

  He’s annoyed by his panions’ slow movements, their ck of initiative, and their weakness. Above all, he’s upset that the fox girl who usually apahem isn’t here.

  All this frustration has been building up, and now it’s exploding.

  He’s fident in his physical strength and size. He believes he’s talented because his father is a captain in the military.

  But the future he envisioned—where he’d be a heroic figure, praised and admired by everyone—has yet to e true.

  "How long are you going to keep me waiting? I’m thirsty and pissed."

  It hasn’t even been a minute sihey started running.

  But Dassé, always quie others, idly checks the drops from the goblins he killed.

  "Tch, only fic stones? Cheap bastards."

  The haul isn’t bad, but Dassé isn’t satisfied. He grumbles as he picks up the magic stones and stuffs them into his pouch.

  He shares the loot, but he always takes the lion’s share. In his mind, they should be grateful for whatever they get.

  "Huh?"

  Then, something catches his eye—a glint of light refleg off something irees.

  "Is that... a key?"

  It’s a single key, illuminated by a beam of sunlight breaking through the foliage.

  "No way!"

  Dassé, who only pays attention to things that i him, hurriedly picks it up.

  "Haha."

  As he exami, he realizes what it is.

  A dungeon key.

  "Hahahahaha! I k! I’m a hero!!"

  Those who quer dungeons are worthy of being called heroes. Dassé has heard tless stories like this.

  And though he’s simple-minded, he knows how dungeons are formed.

  His gloomy mood instantly lifts, though whether this is good or bad luck remains to be seen.

  "With this, even Nel will have to aowledge me!"

  He believes that quering a dungeon will brighten his future.