Teresa

The second-hand Artifact shop in Port Sailstead. I once brought in some treasure I had found. The moment I stepped in, they accused me of trying to mess up their business and kicked me out.

I developed a code system using fishbone signs to represent different information. The head and tail indicate where I'm heading and where I've come from. The number of bones shows the distance from the starting point to the sign. The size of the fish eye reflects the level of danger nearby.

When I'm thirsty, I can always find dew. When I'm hungry, there are berries to eat. And if I get hurt, the Wilds offers healing herbs. My dad once told me, "When you're out in the wilderness and run out of supplies, just look around. Resources are everywhere."

Shortly after I arrived in Port Sailstead, I found a tunnel on the outskirts and shared the information with the Trekker Association. They had a hot debate about whether it was built during the war or formed by shifting tides. I couldn't care less about that. What mattered was that I had a shortcut for delivering letters.

More than two thirds of the treasures I find only need a little repair and renovation to be useful again. These items were meant to serve their purpose longer, but instead, they're abandoned in the Wilds. It feels wrong to leave them like that.

Before I met Teresa, she was already in the mailing business. You could say she's a senior to me. But she doesn't act like one at all. In fact, she has this way of making people want to look out for her. Heh~ —Donna

I used to be a keeper at a Monolith out in the Wilds. One day, someone fired a flare gun from the forest. It was so bright that I thought someone was casting Fireball. When I got there, I found Teresa stuck in a tree, fainting from hunger. I knew her father well, so I told him about this incident with his daughter. His response was an odd one: "At least she's not stuck on a cliff this time." I was a bit drunk when he said this, so maybe I misheard. But I'd say their father-daughter relation is unique in its own way. —A member of the Trekker Association

It is a rare scale, taken from the first creature Teresa defeated using Gram. It was a gigantic Draklisk, whose scales were so valuable that any knowledgeable merchant would pay a high price to get their hands on them. But Teresa didn't care about that. It was shiny and beautiful, so she kept it for herself.

It is a set of rusty keys, along with an undelivered letter. The letter and keys were from an elderly man, his trembling palms were calloused from years of hard labor. Following the vague address, Teresa traveled to a city, only to learn that the recipient had lost his business and become a Trekker. The man was desperately exploring the Monolith in the hope of making up for the money he had lost. When Teresa found him, he was lost deep inside a Monolith. After she rescued him, he refused the letter and wouldn't speak of the old man. Instead, he left the keys to Teresa as extra payment for her trouble. Teresa never opened the letter, nor did she try to find the lock the keys might open. She simply kept them safe. She believed that while the letter couldn't be delivered today, it might still reach its recipient in the future.

The "treasures" Teresa collected have occupied an entire room in Post Haste. It is a room neither Donna nor Freesia ever set foot in. Teresa believes that regardless of their worth, these items will eventually play a part in her plan.

"Teresa~ Dinner's ready! Hurry, or Freesia will eat it all!" "Overruled. Donna always sneaks extra bites under the excuse of 'Tasting.'"

The routine quarrel comes from downstairs. Teresa carefully locks the door. Before she can set her plan in motion, her treasures have to rest just a little longer.

As I write this letter, I am sitting by the window, watching you leave.

Tonight marks the first time you've left home as a Trekker, leaving the city and stepping into the Wilds. My colleagues suggested I follow you to keep you safe. But I believe humans are born with two legs for a reason—to walk independently on our own path. I shouldn't be a crutch to you as you take your first steps, and honestly, I don't think you'd be happy if I did.

Being a courier is a noble calling. You deliver messages across the land, helping people remain connected. I'm proud of the path you've chosen, but what fills me with even more pride is your courage to step into the vast wilderness and explore a world full of new possibilities.

The skills I taught you will be more than enough for you to handle the challenges in the Wilds, so I'm not worried about your safety. What I do feel is regret. I've missed too many important moments in your life—your childhood, your first day of school, the moment you became a courier. A good father should have been there for all of those moments.

And I owe your mother an apology, too. When I was younger, I was so focused on chasing my dreams that I rarely stopped to appreciate the people who supported me. Your mother sacrificed so much for me, and it wasn't until much later that I truly understood what love really meant.

The best decision I ever made in my life was finding this beautiful hill, building a little house for our family, and then having you.

Now that I'm old, I can finally use the time I have left to make up for you two. To say I'm not worried about you would be a lie. But I believe you'll meet people who share your passions. With good friends by your side, there's no challenge you can't overcome.

I've left a gift for you. It is hidden in the ancient ruins beneath the cave where you used to play as a child. Just be careful—there is a clutch of Draklisks residing in the area, so it's best to bring something to draw them away.

With love,

Your Father

When Teresa was going through her old things, she came across the geography book her father had insisted she take with her in her first Trekker trip. She had read it so many times that she never bothered to open it. And inside the book was the letter, left unopened for two years.

Now, Teresa understood the awkward smile on her father's face the night she returned with Gram.

That is the reason why you need a courier to properly deliver the letter to its right recipient...

"Is that it?"

Teresa pouted, frustrated that the story ended so underwhelmingly. But that was all the context inscribed on the broken stone tablet she was reading.

"Huh, it doesn't have your name in it."

Neither an archaeologist, nor a history buff, Teresa just wanted to find the name of the broken sword she had stumbled upon in the ruins.

"Grrraargh..."

A growl echoed from above. A giant Draklisk crouched above the stone tablet, its bloody-red tongue flicking in and out, its pale yellow eyes locked onto Teresa.

"This sword isn't yours, is it? You can't even hold it with your claws."

Teresa paused for a moment, making sure she wasn't snatching the belonging of the Draklisk. Confident that she hadn't, she puffed out her chest.

"Finders keepers! I found it first!" "Hey, why are you attacking me? Fine, if you want a fight, you've got it."

The Draklisk's claws scraped against the sword, sending sparks flying. Clearly, the monster cared more about filling its stomach than getting back the piece of metal it used as a pillow. However, as anyone knows, a hungry monster doesn't stand a chance against someone who was full of vitality after a good meal. And lucky for Teresa, she'd had a hearty meal prepared by her mom before heading out.

And so, the sword earned a new name after a good fight. As Teresa walked out of the ruins, carrying her prize—a perfect Draklisk scale—she had already decided on its name.

"Sword of Destruction or Draklisk Slayer... Nah, I think 'Gram' suits it better!"

Then she thought about how she'd tell today's adventure to her mom. She was so focused that she completely missed the fishbone marks she'd left on the trees.

"Strange... Is this the path I came from?" "Eh, whatever. I will inspect the surrounding on that tree first."

And with that, another story began...