[PP-F01] The First Few Lessons for the Weak

[Bael 1]

The plains stretched endlessly before them, an ocean of green swaying beneath the pale afternoon light. Far beyond, the floating fragments of land drifted lazily across the sky, their shadows cutting dark shapes over the grass. It was a peaceful sight, deceptively so.

Bael moved at the head of the group, his hood drawn low, the long poncho swaying with each measured step. The cloth concealed most of his frame, save for the faint metallic glint of the greataxe strapped across his back, a massive, single-edged weapon whose broad glade gleamed like a threat half-spoken. The six players trailing him took comfort in his calm stride, mistaking composure for safety.

"Are you sure this path leads to better spawns?" asked Aliwyvern, the self-appointed second-in-command. His rapier dangled loosely at his side, its tip occasionally brushing the tall grass.

Bael didn't turn. "Trust me," he said evenly. "The outer herds gather near the ridges. You'll gain levels faster there."

Bbunnie, the party's healer, let out a relived laugh. "Finally! I'm almost out of potions. Please tell me these things drop something decent."

"You'll have your share," Bael replied. His tone carried warmth to sound convincing.

They had met by chance outside the Town of Beginnings, or so they believed. Six eager faces, all low-leveled and desperate for guidance. Bael had offered advice, direction, and just enough charisma to pull them into his orbit. It hadn't taken long for them to follow his lead. Hope was a powerful leash.

Ahead, the ground sloped gently toward a widen stretch of open grass. A pond shimmered at its center, reflecting shards of sunlight. Nearby, a small pack of Forest Boars grazed their tusks dull, their movements lazy and predictable. Perfect targets for new players.

"There they are," Bael said, stopping at the crest of the ridge. "Six of you, six of them. Keep tight formation and don't scatter. The moment you panic, you die."

Axon stepped forward, straight sword drawn, shield lifted high. Erickk and FinnLin followed, blades catching the light as they took flanking positions. Meryan and Bbunnie readied their bows, while Aliwyvern twirled his rapier with eager precision.

"Let's do this right," Axon barked, and they surged forward.

The clash broke the calm, grunts, shouts, and the low thunder of hooves tearing through grass. Arrows whistled. Steel rang. Bael watched from the ridge, motionless beneath his hood, the wind tugging gently at his poncho.

They fought better than he expected. The tank held firm, blades cut true, and the archers coordinated their volleys. They bled, staggered, recovered. For a brief moment, Bael almost admired their effort. Almost.

When the last boar fell, the plains fell silent again. The group's cheers filled the emptiness, pure, breathless relief.

Bael's hand found the haft of his greataxe.

"You did well," he said softly. His tone was calm, but his words fell like the first chill of dusk.

Then, almost kindly, he added, "Now for your next lesson."

* * *

Spoiler

Level 1:
HP: 20/20 | EN: 20/20 | DMG: 6

WC: 492