This is no ordinary thing, Turner thought secretly. Pen ~ fun ~ pavilion www.biquge.info

The first twenty years of Turner's life were in the fields, and in the whispers of cows and sheep, his heart was like a weed growing wildly in autumn. After a negotiation that eventually turned into a quarrel, he resolutely left the vast land. Over the next eleven years, he and his friends traveled through dungeons and wilderness. Years of adventure had given him experience, and by the time he went from adventurer to bodyguard, he was already a mature man with a lot of experience.

Past experience has taught Turner that physique and age are important factors in judging the strength of an adventurer, but it would be too reckless to draw conclusions based on this. There was no one in the vicinity for a few hundred yards, and the reason for the wolves' retreat was most likely the boy in front of him.

"It's so cold." Turner tentatively accosted as he approached the campfire.

In the dark dungeons and treacherous wilderness, the intrigues between humans are not as sinister as the story goes. In order to defend against monsters together, it is not uncommon for unknown adventurers and squads to get together and rest. But there will always be people who are not enthusiastic, who may have an eccentric temperament or who are socially averse. When you're not sure if you're popular, it's always a good starter to talk about the weather.

Turner watched the boy's expression as he got closer, and the boy's attitude would determine whether he had to continue the night trek or have a peaceful night.

"Yes." The boy's voice was as flat as water, and there was something hidden in the voice that reminded Turner of the intelligent golem in the labyrinth of the dungeon, the voice of an inanimate with an inorganic sense.

As the boy spoke, he looked up at Turner, who was finally able to see his face in the light of the campfire.

"It's like a character from an art book." Turner thought to himself. Such faces will appear on the frescoes of the church. In addition to this, it may appear on the stage of a play, in the reverie of a poet, or in the dreams of a maiden, but in any case it does not match the meadow at night.

Turner walked over to the boy by the campfire and sat down cross-legged, his gaze sweeping roughly over the boy as he bent over.

The boy was covered in a wide black robe that only a magic class could equip with, and his entire body was wrapped in it like a black mage—but it didn't make it look gloomy. He was holding a block of wood and a knife in his hand, and it was clear that he had been staring at the gadget before Turner arrived.

Moving his gaze down, Turner noticed the weapon on the side of the boy's body. It was a black stick about four feet long, and Turner had seen some adventurers use it as a weapon in the past, but the one in front of him was a little too short for a long stick, and it was too long for a short stick. Turner guessed it was a staff. Although the appearance is a little strange, it is obviously more in line with the dress and appearance of the teenager.

Turner threw the package and the weapon on the ground next to him to show that he had no ill will.

"Nice to meet you, my name is Turner." He sent a polite greeting to the teenager. For the most part, Turner's language doesn't seem formal, but with a mage, Turner wants to behave as appropriately as possible.

"Ciel." The teenager's answer was short and clear.

The boy's unrelenting voice made Turner wonder if his presence had disturbed the young mage, but his concerns were quickly dispelled, and he saw the young man named Hill staring at his face intently, as if waiting for the next conversation.

Over the next few minutes, Turner dominated the conversation, something never before in a past adventure. Although the conversation between the two men was a bland question-and-answer question, the long-lost coziness around the campfire reminded Turner of the adventurous days before he became a guard.

A silent but attentive person always evokes the desire to talk. Faced with the expressionless face and clear eyes of a teenager's puppet, Turner felt as if he had become talkative. The conversation ranged from the weather to past adventures, and Turner's tone gradually became softer and more rhythmic.

"At that time, the four of us teamed up to explore the dungeon together. Senali, who was obsessed with money, pounced desperately every time she saw a treasure chest, and was bitten on the finger by the treasure mimic nine times out of ten; Campbell is a troll uncle who loves to cook, and when it's his turn to cook, the differences in perception of ingredients between races always make us sit on the edge of our seats; And Andrew, who we didn't know he was a great novelist until we parted, and my father had even been a fan of his books. ”

The expression on Turner's face softened, and he relived the past eleven years in the space of ten minutes. Death was close at hand—for a moment, he was immersed in memories of the past.

"Adventure, isn't it fun?"

Turner lifted his eyes to see the boy looking at him with a slight tilt. The boy's voice still lacked heaves, but Turner heard a hint of curiosity in it.

"Ho, of course." It was just a simple sentence, and after blurting it out, Turner felt almost tears welling up in his eyes. The good old days have long since become his spiritual support, and it inspires this thirty-two-year-old resolute man to embark on this journey of revenge with no life or death. This answer is not just a simple perfunctory, but a torture of the soul that has been rooted in a long time. Four days earlier, when Turner had escaped from the bandits and returned to his home after a thirteen-year absence, he had been crushed almost instantly by the deserted fields next to his house and the obscure names on his tombstones. Tormented by despair and inner harshness, Turner kept having the same dream over and over again for days. He was questioned in his dreams, and he was asked for an answer—not only by his father, by Alain, but also by the stubborn boy who rode on the back of a cow every day, with great and bizarre fantasies, and looked into the distance on the top of a mountain. Now, Turner looks to his heart – the answer is a matter of course, no matter how many times, no matter who asks, he will answer without thinking.

"It's impossible not to be funny, it's an adventure."

"...... really."

Was it infected by his words or by the reddening of his eyes? The boy blinked, looked at Turner's face and nodded in response.

After a moment of silence, the boy asked:

"Why, not continue the adventure?"

"Probably because I don't have the talent to move on." After the shackles that had been embedded in my heart disappeared, words that had been kept secret for many years could now be easily spoken. Out of the corner of his eye, Turner glanced into the distance, recalling the scene when they parted.

※

"Disbanded?" Turner looked at Andrew in disbelief, the male elf whose age was mysterious, looking at him with a serious face.

"That's right, you've been roaming the fifth floor of the dungeon for many years, and needless to say, everyone already knows the types of monsters here, their levels, and how to deal with them. It's not an adventure anymore, it's just a repetition of a monotonous life. To be honest, everyone is feeling a little tired of it. ”

"We can go to the sixth floor! There will be new monsters and new challenges! I've long felt bored on the fifth floor, so let's explore new areas together! Maybe we'll meet Barr's team again......"

"No way!" Andrew interrupted Turner loudly, "We can't deal with higher-level enemies right now. You know, everyone in the squad is not a gifted adventurer, just an ordinary person who loves adventure. We don't even have a high-level profession among us, and it is the result of everyone's efforts to get to where we are today. But living things have their own limits, and I don't want to admit it, but that's probably our limit. Even Turner, aren't you level stagnant at level 14 for a long time? ”

Andrew's words left Turner speechless, but he was not willing to give up.

"What can we do if we don't become adventurers?"

"Senari has decided to become a bank clerk, and Campbell is determined to become the first special chef of the trolls, for which he has already secured an errand as a restaurant cook. And I'm ......" Andrew laughed, "I'll write our story in my new novel when I get back." ”

"Novels?" The word puzzled Turner.

"That's right. Andrew S. K. Clive, that's my full name. It is the novelist that your father admired as you mentioned earlier. Turner, my dear friend. I've already explained to you where all three of us went, and we're going to talk about yours next. ”

"I guess I'll continue my adventure alone." Turner said.

"No, you should go home." Andrew said solemnly, "Back to your childhood sweetheart and family, Turner." It's time to end the fight against your father, and you've won the battle for all. You can tell your father that you and his favorite novelist are best friends, and that you have adventures together, laugh together, and have the most memorable days together. When the new novel is published, I will send it to your father. I will write on the title page: To my faithful Jonav Ken, I must give you this book. Thanks to your son, this book is only possible. Because your son, my friend Turner, is an outstanding adventurer – and the protagonist of this adventure story. ”

Andrew's words were sincere and suggestive, but Turner didn't listen to him.

Three months after the team was disbanded, Turner arrived at Innis City, the capital of the Water Kingdom. With a wealth of adventure experience and excellent swordsmanship, Turner passed the test to become a noble bodyguard.

Life as a guard wasn't as pleasant as it was on an adventure, but it gave Turner some meaning to exist. About three years passed like this. Three years later, five days earlier, they had been confronted by robbers on the border of the northern plains and the Tria Mountains.