The Lying Mage’s Quest

The next morning, there I was.
Sitting at a guild table.
Eating my everyday breakfast.
The cheapest one, of course.

A handful of sad vegetables, a suspicious-looking mash (better not ask what it was made of), and a piece of bread that could double as a blunt weapon.
And, like I was some kind of celebrity in the Rock-Hard Bread Hall of Fame, a few adventurers had surrounded me, bombarding me with questions:

"Hey, Ren, how do you manage to have two gorgeous girls in your party?" one of them asked, pulling out a notebook and quill with more seriousness than a crime reporter.

"Hey, Ren, the screams we heard last night from your room…" added another, blushing as his brain clearly wandered into unauthorized territory.

The screams part… I can explain.

Last night, right before bed, Evelyn did what she does best: annoy me.

"Hey, Ren~ Are you coming to sleep with us tonight?" she said in that trademark sultry tone of hers.

"No," I replied without even looking at her. I was immune to her provocations.

Or so I thought.

"Are you sure? Have you seen what Nymeris is wearing for pajamas?"

…
Okay, I didn’t see that one coming.

My head turned like a broken-down robot. And there she was.

Nymeris.
Wearing a white nightgown.
The kind that should be outlawed.

She stood there, shy posture, eyes downcast, as if timidity itself was a paralysis spell.

I swallowed hard. Hold it, Ren. Stay strong. Don’t break.

"Come on, Ren… are you really not coming over?" Evelyn pressed, moving closer to Nymeris as if she were presenting a trophy.

And then… Evelyn wrapped her demon tail around Nymeris’s waist.

Nymeris let out such a flustered scream the walls themselves should have turned red.

That’s what really happened. But these degenerates thought otherwise.

Back at my breakfast, I tried ignoring both the adventurers and their tabloid-level questions.
Impossible task, by the way.

And then… they came downstairs.
The culprits behind my emotional gastritis.

Evelyn descended the stairs as if they were a celestial runway.
Hips swaying, superior gaze, catalog-perfect smile.
Typical of her.

Nymeris followed behind, much more modest, more reserved, more—

WHAM!

She tripped on the last step.
Fell face-first into Evelyn, who absolutely didn’t see it coming.
They both rolled onto the floor like a badly rehearsed slapstick routine.

"I-I’m so sorry, Miss Evelyn!" Nymeris blurted, standing back up, blushing redder than a scarlet tomato.

Evelyn got up too, fire blazing in her eyes. Literally.
Her aura burned as if her fashion show had just been ruined.

"Heyyy! Be more careful!!" she yelled, fist raised with divine fury.

After the little scene, both sat down at my table.
Evelyn with a funeral face.
Nymeris smiling sweetly as if nothing had happened.

"Good morning, Mister Ren," Nymeris said, her gentle tone pure enough to cure colds.

Evelyn, on the other hand, didn’t bother greeting me.
She stayed sulking, glaring at me like I had placed the stair there.
As if it was my fault…

A few minutes later, Lina appeared.
Carrying a tray of food that looked like it had come straight out of a five-star restaurant.

Prime meat, golden vegetables, even a perfectly cooked egg.
All decorated with some fancy green sprig that was probably inedible but looked nice.

"Here you go, Miss Evelyn," Lina said with her professional smile, carefully setting the tray down. "I hope it’s to your liking."

…

"Hey, Evelyn…" I muttered, comparing her banquet to my depressing mash.

"Yes, Ren?" she asked, delicately placing a napkin over her lap like a noble at a gala dinner.

"How much does that dish cost…?" I asked, trembling like someone about to ask rent prices in the capital.

"Hmm… I don’t know. But a goddess like me shouldn’t be eating the kind of garbage you’re having," she said mercilessly.

…

I swear I’ll sell Evelyn to the first degenerate adventurer who offers me a single argen.

Thankfully, Nymeris had ordered the same dish as me.
Same weird mash. Same blunt-force bread.
At least one person in this party was sensible.
Besides me, obviously.

While Evelyn stuffed herself as if she hadn’t just ruined my breakfast, I kept fighting to keep the food down.
Spoiler: I was losing.

"Hey, Evelyn… about the energy drink… what exactly happened back then?"

"Mmmm, I don’t really know," she replied, chewing without a care. "I think it gave you superpowers or something."

…

My eyes lit up like someone had flipped on an LED bulb in my soul.

"Superpowers!? Do you mean I can do awesome stuff now? Like flying, shooting laser beams from my eyes, defeating monsters with my bare hands…!?"

Finally! This is it! This is finally turning into a proper isekai!

…

But my dream lasted as long as a slime under the sun.

"Hmm, don’t think so," Evelyn shrugged. "It seems like the drink gave you temporary power. After that, you went back to being a loser with two power units."

…

Ow. That hurt.

Even Nymeris giggled. Discreetly, but I saw it.
I saw it.

"IT’S THREE UNITS!" I yelled, slamming the table like my entire lineage had been insulted.

"I-I think three is pretty good," Nymeris whispered, trying to console me.

See? Someone appreciates my power. Someone with taste!

"So… it was only temporary?" I muttered, staring at my hands, disappointed.

She’s right, though… I hadn’t felt anything different since then.
What a garbage world. I want a refund.

But the humiliation wasn’t over.
Oh no.

Because just then…
Lyra appeared. With the bill.

"That’ll be 320 Argens," she said, her monotone voice slicing straight through my soul.

…

Evelyn started whistling. Belly full.
As if this had nothing to do with her.
As if she hadn’t just devoured the GDP of a small village.

"E-excuse me, Lyra… there must be some mistake, right?" I asked, trembling at the number.

But then Lina appeared.

"No, Mister Ren," she said, smiling sweetly but lethally.
"The amount is 320," Lyra repeated, merciless.

…

I paid. Resigned.
Wounded.
Robbed.

We left the guild, me dragging my feet, Nymeris giving me moral support, and Evelyn happily skipping along like nothing happened.
In the background, Lina and Lyra waved us goodbye…
As if they hadn’t just murdered my wallet.

The guild’s special dish cost three hundred. Damn. Argens.

After that, we headed to the palace to meet Zaroth.

The sun was shining.
People were smiling.
Birds were singing.

And me…
I walked surrounded by an aura of sadness.
Muttering curses.
Saying random nonsense like a broken NPC.

The palace welcomed us with the usual display of fantasy-world luxury:
Towering white spires, decorative statues, soldiers patrolling the walls, and all those things palaces always have.
You know the drill.

At the gate, a soldier stopped us with professionalism and zero warmth.

"Halt! Identify yourselves, please."

"Uh… I’m Ren. These are Evelyn and Nymeris. We’re here to see Zaroth."

"Ah, it’s you. Alright, follow me."

We followed him down a well-lit corridor… though not lit by the sun.
Torches lit themselves one by one as we walked.

Definitely Zaroth’s style. He knew how to look like a cool mage.

At a spiral staircase, the soldier stopped and pointed upward.

"Head up. Zaroth is waiting at the top."

…

And so we climbed.
Step after step.
More steps.
Way too many steps.

"HOW MANY STEPS ARE THERE!?" I shouted, on the verge of collapse.

Behind me, Evelyn dragged herself with her tongue out like a dog in summer.
Nymeris stopped every couple of minutes to catch her breath like an asthmatic grandma.

What kind of torture was this…? Did Zaroth live on top of Mount Stupid or what?

After an incalculable number of steps—because I stopped counting after fifty—we finally reached the top.

And collapsed.
Literally.

The three of us on the floor, sweating, panting, our legs as useless as my power stat.

And then, as if nothing happened…

"Ohhh, finally! Took you long enough," Zaroth greeted us, laughing like we hadn’t just survived a vertical nightmare event.

Once we’d caught just enough breath to avoid passing out, we sat in cushy chairs while Zaroth, completely unbothered, prepared us tea.

His room was… awesome.
Totally worthy of a “magical elegant home” catalog.

Bubbling cauldrons full of suspicious liquids, shelves stacked to the ceiling with books, a desk cluttered with messy scrolls, and a floating quill writing by itself with stressed-secretary energy.

Classic wizard room.
Page one of the handbook: “How to Decorate If You’re a Stylish Wizard.”

I raised my hand.

"Hey, Zaroth, I’ve got a question."

"Go ahead," he replied, like a chill college professor.

"Do you climb those stairs every day?"

…

Yes, that’s all I cared about right then.
Not epic quests, not kingdom wars, not heroic destiny.
I just wanted to know how this old man was still alive after scaling the Stairway of Doom every day.

Zaroth stroked his beard.
Put on the face of a sage about to reveal an ancient truth.
Rolled up his robe sleeve a little…

"Of course I do!" he declared with epic grandeur.

And then he showed us his calves.

They were sculpted.
Like Greek statues.
Ultra-defined.
Ultra-muscular.
They practically spoke.

That, my friends, wasn’t magic.
That was dedication. Pain. Effort. And stairs. Lots of stairs.

…

"Hahahaha! You actually believed me, kid!" he burst into laughter. "These calves came from a muscle-definition spell.
I use a magic elevator I built years ago.
Only idiots climb the stairs."

…

"Hey, Ren…" Evelyn muttered darkly.

"Yeah?"

"Can I kill him?"

"Yes."

Evelyn lunged like a lightning bolt.
But Nymeris, catlike reflexes, grabbed her arm mid-charge.

"Let me go, Nymeris! I’ll kill this old man!"

After that violent little outburst, Zaroth suddenly turned serious.
Way too serious.
Enough to shut us up instantly.

"Alright," he said solemnly. "I summoned you here because I need a favor."

"Why us?" I asked immediately, with all the suspicion my three power units allow.

"Because I know of your deeds.
The slaying of baby scorpions…"

…
That doesn’t sound like an achievement.

"What is it about?" Evelyn asked, now intrigued.

Zaroth narrowed his eyes, his tone grave.

"Recently, the Demon King has been unusually quiet.
But ever since your arrival, it seems he has renewed his intent to conquer all of Khaelym.
We have reports that he is gathering a great army of demons."

"And… what does that have to do with us?" I asked, already smelling the impossible quest incoming.

The legendary mission prompt was practically in the air.

"There are ruins within our kingdom of Virelthia.
Inside lies a weapon of great power.
It was supposed to be sealed for centuries.
But something—or someone—broke the seal.
We know the demons want this object for evil purposes."

…

And like a true RPG quest-giver, Zaroth wasn’t done yet.

"I want you to investigate the ruins… and retrieve that weapon."

…

"I refuse," I said firmly, arms crossed, gaze unwavering.
Hero with an unbreakable sense of morality.

Zaroth shook a small pouch. The jingle of coins filled the room.

"Ten thousand argens."

…

"I accept," I said in the exact same pose.

…

Evelyn and Nymeris stared at me like I had just cast a split-personality spell.

Ten thousand argens!
Are you kidding me!?
With that, I could eat the guild’s special dish for a whole week!

"There’s more," Zaroth added, interrupting my calculations about how many luxury meals I could buy with 10,000 argens.

I raised a brow.
Suspicious.

"I’ll also throw this in as part of your reward," he said, pulling from his robe…

An energy drink.

My eyes widened.
They shone like suns.

It was beautiful.
An orange can with white letters across the top: SUN POWER.
On it, a drawing of a muscular man with golden hair and a proud expression.
He held a miniature sun, ready to scorch all of hell.

Wait… isn’t that Escanor!? Yeah, it is! Escanor from the Seven Deadly Sins! The Sin of Pride himself!

"It’s so pretty!" Nymeris murmured, leaning toward me. "Does that give you powers too, Mister Ren?"

Mister Ren…? Oh please… give me strength, canned Escanor!

"A little bird told me you’re into these things," Zaroth said with a sly grin.

"A little bird?" I asked, confused.

"That was me," a high-pitched voice replied from the corner of the room.

A black crow flew out, landing right in front of me.
It looked permanently pissed at the world.

"Wait… did the crow just talk?" Evelyn asked, excited like a kid with a new toy.

"Yes. I can talk," the crow answered in a squeaky, stressed-squirrel voice. "My name is Frederick."

"I like your name… Frederick sounds elegant," Nymeris said, making the crow puff out its chest with pride.

…

Evelyn burst into laughter.

"Frederick? AHAHAHA!! What a lame name! And that squeaky voice! HAHAHA!"

Frederick, offended, flew straight at Evelyn’s head, pecking furiously while screaming in rage.
She ran around the room begging for help like she’d summoned a level 99 final boss.

Nymeris did nothing.
Neither did I.

He even had a talking crow… yeah, when I grow up, I wanna be Zaroth.

Back to business, I switched into professional negotiator mode.
(Years of haggling at school cafeterias had prepared me for this.)

"Alright. I accept. But give me the can upfront."

"Here," Zaroth said, tossing it to me like it was just a convenience store soda.

I caught it midair.
Too easy.

"I trust you’ll complete the task and bring me good news," Zaroth added, in his best “important NPC who won’t lift a finger” tone.

Though… the way he stared out the window before dismissing us…
Something told me this mission wasn’t going to be funny at all.

And so…
We left the palace with a new quest.
A new can in my hands.
And, most importantly…

We did NOT have to take the stairs down.
We used Zaroth’s magic elevator.

Bless you, old man.