Anomaly of Fate
Chapter 70: First Comission

Chapter 70: First Comission

The evening air carried a crisp coolness, a stark contrast to the warmth of the sun that had lingered throughout the day. A faint breeze rustled the leaves lining the academy pathways, carrying with it the scent of freshly cut grass and distant chimney smoke. The distant murmur of students winding down for the night filled the atmosphere with a quiet liveliness—small groups lingering around the dormitories, some engaged in last-minute discussions about their studies, while others simply enjoyed idle conversation.

Velren stood before the academy’s commission board, its surface illuminated by a series of soft, enchanted lights that kept the postings visible even after sundown. He wasn’t alone—several other students had gathered around, scanning the available requests with varying degrees of interest.

Some discussed potential missions in hushed voices, forming teams on the spot. Others simply examined the listings in quiet contemplation, perhaps debating whether they were up for the challenge.

Velren paid them little mind.

His gaze drifted over the numerous commissions, carefully browsing through the details. His preference? Simple.

Whichever one offered the best payout.

***

Velren’s eyes moved swiftly across the parchment postings, analyzing each request with practiced efficiency. Some were basic—item retrievals, assisting researchers, or minor escort tasks—while others leaned towards the more dangerous spectrum, like tracking rogue magical creatures or dealing with unstable mana anomalies.

But for him, the deciding factor wasn’t necessarily the level of risk. It was the reward.

This was the real reason he had declined Eterna’s offer earlier. While working with her and Raine would have certainly made things easier, it also meant splitting the reward. Given his current circumstances, that wasn’t something he could afford to do.

His monthly allowance from Gramps wasn’t exactly small, but it also wasn’t something he could completely depend on. Not to mention, the old man was carefree—too carefree—and there was always the off chance that he would simply forget to send it.

So rather than relying on something uncertain, it was better to secure a steady source of income himself.

***

Minute by minute, the postings on the commission board thinned out.

Velren stood with his arms crossed, his gaze flicking between the remaining options. A few of the more popular commissions had already been taken, their parchment slips removed by eager students who had wasted no time in making their selections.

Yet, he still hadn’t found one that suited him.

The problem wasn’t the lack of choices. There were plenty of available requests, but most either didn’t offer a worthwhile payout or required a level of involvement he wasn’t keen on. Some commissions demanded long-term commitments, while others were tasks that barely paid enough to justify the effort.

He wasn’t interested in running around for pocket change.

Then, just as he was about to move on, his eyes landed on something that caught his attention.

Commission Type: Escort

Task: Guide a merchant’s carriage transporting weapon supplies to the neighboring kingdom of Caelestoria.

Reward: 300 silver credits

Velren’s brow lifted slightly.

This... sounded promising.

The payout was solid, and the request itself was straightforward. An escort mission meant there was always a chance of unexpected complications, but given that it was a merchant transport and not some high-profile figure, it likely wouldn’t be anything too troublesome.

Still, the name of the neighboring kingdom, Caelestoria, didn’t ring a bell. He had never needed to concern himself with geography beyond what was immediately relevant, so his familiarity with foreign territories was limited at best. But that wasn’t necessarily a problem—after all, he only needed to guide the carriage to its destination, not write a report on the place.

His eyes then dropped to the name of the person who had issued the commission.

And that was when he paused.

"Isn’t this...?"

***

The kingdom’s primary transport system, The Auris Line, cut through the morning landscape with effortless speed. The train was designed to connect major districts and cities across the kingdom, ensuring swift travel for those who needed to traverse long distances.

Sleek in design, its carriages were built with a blend of enchanted steel and reinforced wood, allowing it to maintain both durability and elegance. Runes embedded along the tracks provided a continuous stream of mana, keeping the train in motion with near-perfect efficiency. The rhythmic hum of magic-infused wheels against the rails filled the air, blending with the occasional distant whistle as it passed through different zones.

Inside, the passenger cabins were well-lit by soft, floating mana-lights, casting a warm golden glow against the morning sky. The seats were arranged in comfortable rows, designed for both nobles and commoners alike, with separate sections for private bookings.

Velren sat near the window, resting his elbow against the edge as he watched the blurred scenery rush past.

His destination?

The Artisan District.

***

The train slowed as it neared the station, a faint hiss of steam escaping as the mana engines adjusted their output. Velren stepped off the carriage, landing his boots firmly on the stone platform. A moment later, the train gave a low hum and continued down the tracks, disappearing into the distance.

He took in his surroundings with a quiet breath. The Artisan District—it had been years since he last set foot here. The last time was when Gramps had dragged him along, back when he was only ten.

Even so, the air still carried that same unmistakable scent—a mix of smelted metal, aged wood, and the faintest traces of oil and enchantment residue. The rhythmic clanking of hammers against anvils echoed in the distance, joined by the occasional burst of steam as artisans worked tirelessly within their forges. Street vendors called out to passersby, their stalls lined with everything from hand-crafted jewelry to intricate weapon designs.

Despite the sense of nostalgia, Velren didn’t linger. His steps carried him away from the bustling heart of the district and toward the less refined side of town. The polished storefronts and brightly lit workshops gradually gave way to dimly lit alleys and aged buildings, their exteriors worn by time and neglect.

And finally—he arrived.

A metal sign, dulled with age yet still sturdy, hung above the entrance.

"Steelthorn Armory."