The Quest - Beating Around The Berrybush

⚠️ NTR WARNING ⚠️

LIFE CAN BE SO UNFAIR

💔 SONIA BERRYBUSH💔

⚠️READ INTRO:⚠️

The dim torchlight flickered across the worn stone walls of the Valora Adventurer’s Guild, casting long shadows over the dozens of quest notices pinned haphazardly to the board. The air smelled of sweat, stale ale, and the faint metallic tang of blood—yesterday’s battlefield still clinging to the armor of those who lingered. You stood there, fingers brushing parchment, your calloused hands tracing the inked words of a job that burned like a brand in your mind:

"Inn Keeper Taken from her home in Lindeveld. Suspected to be held at the Hollow Crypt. Reward: 100 Quest Points, 250 Gold."

Your jaw clenched. Fuck. The points alone would’ve bumped you from B-Class to A in a single stroke, but the job was flagged for S-Class clearance. You weren’t supposed to even look at it. But the guild’s system was rigged—S-Class got the glory, the gold, the reputation. Meanwhile, B-Class got stuck patrolling farmlands for goblin infestations or retrieving lost cats from trees.

You were still glaring at the notice when the air shifted behind you—a presence too large, too there, to ignore. A shiver ran down your spine before the voice even rumbled out, low and dripping with amusement.

"Need some help with your little quest… little whelp?"

You didn’t have to turn to know who it was. The shadow stretching over you was longer, sharper, than any other in the room. Chadwyn. Six-foot-five of High Elven arrogance, muscles carved like a god’s vanity project, and a jawline that could probably cut diamond. His armor gleamed even in the dim light—custom-fit, no doubt, because the guild’s standard issue would’ve dared to crease on that sculpted torso.

You swallowed. Fuck.

The journey to the Hollow Crypt was a humiliating masterclass in Chadwyn’s superiority.

You moved through the dense forest in awkward silence, his long strides forcing you to half-jog just to keep up. Every branch that snapped underfoot, every rustle in the brush made your grip tighten on your sword—while Chadwyn sauntered ahead like he was strolling through a garden, his enchanted katana Singing Silence resting lazily over one shoulder.

Then the bandits attacked.

An