Cinnamon, one of the five port towns in the kingdom, sits at its southernmost edge. Renowned as a tourist destination for its jewel-like azure seas and abundant seafood, the town now faces an existential crisis.

“GRYAAARRRGH!!”

The cry came from a merman-like monster with traits of both man and fish—the Merman. While there are several types of Mermen, this one, with its deeper blue scales, was identified as an Amarman, an advanced subspecies of the Merman.

An Amarman is classified as a fourth-tier monster, one that requires a seasoned, mid-tier adventuring party to defeat. While not insurmountable, it’s a challenge only veterans can handle.

But there lies the critical caveat—such a monster is not a threat on its own.

“GYAAAAAAHHH!!”

“GYAAAHRRGH!!”

“GYARRRGH!!”

A sea of blue—unnatural, paint-like blue—flooded the adventurers’ vision. This wasn’t the tranquil blue of the sea, but the overwhelming hue of countless Amarmen clustering together, blotting out the horizon.

Among them, paler spots revealed the presence of ordinary Mermen, though their numbers were vastly overshadowed by the superior Amarmen. Such a disproportionate ratio of subspecies was unheard of.

A leather-clad adventurer raised his double-edged axe high near the water's edge. With a deft sidestep, he dodged an Amarman’s snapping jaws, striking a lethal blow in return. The creature let out a death rattle and crumpled.

Under normal circumstances, he would have delivered a follow-up strike to ensure its demise. But there was no time—three more advanced from the left, four from the right, and one from behind. Eight Amarmen closed in on him.

“Take this!” he bellowed.

Despite being outnumbered, the man didn’t falter. He pressed the attack with unrelenting ferocity. His axe danced through the air in what appeared to be chaotic swings. However, on closer inspection, each strike was calculated, a testament to his mastery of the weapon.

“Hah! Is this all you’ve got? Weaklings!” he taunted, as his strikes felled one Amarman after another. His combat style was unconventional, ranging from throwing his axe to using fallen enemies as shields. Unorthodox yet effective, he embodied the very spirit of an adventurer.

As he fought with wild abandon, a pile of Amarman corpses began to mount around him.

“Switch out, Rampard!” a voice called.

“Got it!” Rampard, a second-tier adventurer, immediately retreated. Despite his apparent glee in battle, he transitioned seamlessly to make way for reinforcements.

His reputation as a second-tier adventurer earned solo was well-founded, yet even he struggled against the overwhelming numbers.

“Too many…” he muttered grimly, glancing at the battlefield.

The adventurers were holding their ground, but just barely. They’d been fighting for over three days, and exhaustion was beginning to take its toll.

"Fall back!" a commanding voice boomed.

The adventurers retreated, momentarily relieved as mages unleashed a barrage of devastating spells, carving a temporary gap in the enemy’s ranks. Using this brief respite, the frontliners caught their breath before plunging back into battle.

Rampard swung his axe with precision, but no matter how many he killed, the tide of monsters showed no sign of thinning. Around him, the battlefield rang with the groans of wounded adventurers.

As dusk approached, the assault relented. The sea creatures, unable to see in the dark, retreated beyond the horizon. This daily rhythm of battle offered a glimmer of hope—the chance to rest. Yet the number of adventurers dwindled each day, some fleeing in fear despite the dire consequences.

Rampard reflected on the situation bitterly.

“Fools. Surely they know abandoning an emergency quest spells the end of their careers.”

Emergency quests were non-negotiable, issued only during crises that threatened a city or nation. Failing to participate meant permanent disqualification from adventuring.

Despite reinforcements, the numbers continued to dwindle. Rampard, like the others, fought on, determined to defend the town he called home.

As the sun dipped lower, painting the sky in crimson hues, Rampard noticed something unusual—a ripple among the monster horde.

The creatures parted unnaturally, creating a path. A wet, slapping sound echoed as a lone figure approached—a monster unlike any other.

“So, the boss shows itself,” Rampard muttered.

Standing before him was a Merman King, a regal creature with a muscular frame and purple scales. Larger than the Amarmen, its humanoid features were pronounced. It bore a coral crown and a necklace adorned with red and green beads.

A creature of its rank was no mere foe. Comparable to second-tier adventurers, its strength was rumored to rival even the top tier.

“Think we can take it?” Rampard asked his companion, a mage named Gwimbal.

Gwimbal smirked. “No doubt.”

With synchronized resolve, the two second-tier adventurers faced off against the Merman King. The beast raised a steel staff, its minions retreating to observe.

Rampard’s grip tightened on his axe. His magical reserves, conserved for this very moment, surged as he unleashed his ultimate skill.

“Grand Severance!”

The Merman King’s crown shattered, a deep vertical wound carved across its face.

The battle for Cinnamon had reached a critical turning point.