The early morning sun cast a golden hue over the barracks training grounds, where Jordan jogged alongside a group of soldiers. Their boots thudded rhythmically against the packed dirt, breath misting faintly in the cool air. Sweat clung to Jordan's skin, soaking through the light tunic he wore, but he kept pace without complaint.
Still, something felt off.
His lungs burned, his legs ached more than they should have, and despite pushing himself, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was underperforming.
I was stronger than this in the forest, he thought, frowning. Faster, sharper…
Then it hit him.
He wasn't carrying the dagger.
Ever since the blacksmith had taken it to craft a proper sheath, he'd been without it—and though it sounded ridiculous even in his own mind, Jordan couldn't deny the difference. There was a subtle drain in his energy, as if some part of him was missing.
'Was I really starting to rely on it that much?'
---
He pushed through fifteen more laps before his body finally gave out. Though he never fell behind the seasoned soldiers who ran this route daily—and even outpaced a few—he could feel the difference. Without his dagger, every step was just a little heavier, his movements slightly dulled.
---
After the run, Jordan made his way to the bathhouse. While the city didn't have the luxury of running water, the manor's maids had already filled the stone tub with fresh, heated water. He left the soldiers behind, letting them carry on with their routines, and stepped inside, grateful for the moment of quiet.
As he entered, he happened to cross paths with the same maid who'd seen him shirtless the day before. She paused, gave a shy glance, then quickly turned away, cheeks faintly flushed. Jordan offered a small, amused nod and continued on.
Lowering himself into the warm bath, he let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. The water lapped gently at his skin, easing the soreness in his legs and shoulders from the relentless laps. He leaned back, closing his eyes, letting the ache melt away.
His thoughts drifted as he soaked. He still planned on visiting the Adventurers' Association—something about it still pulled at his curiosity—but Elysia's offer lingered in his mind like a whisper he couldn't shake. Becoming her bodyguard… it wasn't just protection. It meant staying, accepting a role, a place. A purpose.
He wasn't sure if he was ready for that.
Not yet.
But maybe… soon.
His thoughts drifted as he soaked. He still planned on visiting the Adventurers' Association—something about it still pulled at his curiosity—but Elysia's offer lingered in his mind like a whisper he couldn't shake. Becoming her bodyguard… it wasn't just protection. It meant staying, accepting a role, a place. A purpose.
And maybe, that was what he needed.
Because as much as his mind wandered back to the life he once knew—the city noise, the blinding lights, the choices that had led him to ruin—he also knew he couldn't live in the shadow of it forever. That world was gone.
This one—strange, brutal, and magical—was his now.
And he was finally ready to embrace it.
After his bath, Jordan dried off and dressed in one of the outfits Elysia had purchased for him. She hadn't just thought of everyday wear—alongside the comfortable clothes were a few formal and semi-formal pieces, clearly chosen with care. The one he slipped into now was somewhere in between, simple but sharp, the fabric soft and well-fitted.
It felt strange wearing clothes meant for someone who belonged here.
Yet somehow… he didn't feel out of place.
It was still relatively early in the morning, the manor quiet save for the distant sounds of soldiers changing shifts. Jordan made his way to the dining room, drawn by the scent of warm bread and something spiced.
Elysia was already seated at the long table, a steaming cup in hand. Sunlight filtered through the high windows, catching the copper tones in her hair. She looked up as he entered, offering a faint smile.
"Morning," Jordan greeted, taking the seat across from her.
"Morning," she replied, setting her cup down. "You're up early."
"Ran a few laps with the soldiers," he said, stretching slightly before reaching for a piece of bread. "Felt like I needed it."
Elysia raised a brow. "Fifteen laps, right? One of the guards mentioned it when he passed by earlier."
Jordan huffed a small laugh. "Of course they did."
His eyes flicked to the empty seat beside her. "Where's Sir Cedric? He's usually glued to your side by now."
"He left just after dawn," Elysia said, taking another sip. "Went to meet with the scouts who returned from the western outpost. There were reports of movement near the mountain pass."
Jordan stilled slightly, processing her words. "Goblins again?"
"Possibly," she said, voice a touch more serious. "We'll know more once he gets back."
They ate in companionable silence for a few moments until Elysia spoke again.
"So… are you planning to register with the Adventurers' Association?"
Jordan chewed for a second before replying, "Yeah. I've been giving it some thought. Might as well try."
"I figured," she said. "That's why I spoke to Virelle this morning."
Jordan looked up. "Already?"
She nodded. "She agreed to let you bypass the wait period, though she made it very clear she's not going to offer any special treatment. Even if I vouch for you, you'll be treated like any other candidate."
"Fair enough," Jordan said. "I'm just glad I still have the chance."
"You are," Elysia said pointedly. "Today's the ninth. The Association only allows sign-ups for ten days. The actual registration window was from the first to the fifth. If you hadn't gotten in through Virelle's permission, you'd be waiting until next year."
Jordan let out a slow breath. "No wonder that line was so long yesterday."
"Most of them won't even get to sit the exam," she added with a shrug. "Which is why I pulled a few strings. You should be thanking me."
He smiled, genuinely. "Thanks."
"Don't mention it," Elysia said, then smirked. "Actually, you might want to save your gratitude. I also asked a maid to deliver some sample questions to your room. From past written exams."
Jordan blinked. "There's a written part?"
She sipped her tea. "Of course. The Association doesn't just hand out licenses to anyone who can swing a sword. There's theory. Strategy. Local law. Monster classification…"
Jordan groaned. "This just keeps getting better."
Elysia laughed softly and rose from her seat. "You'll do fine. Probably."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence," he muttered.
"You're welcome," she called over her shoulder as she walked away.
Jordan watched her go, then finished his breakfast in silence. The moment he returned to his room, he found a stack of neatly copied parchment waiting on the table—questions that looked far more detailed than he'd expected.
With a sigh, he rolled up his sleeves. If this world was his new reality, he might as well embrace every part of it… even the written exams.
----
Jordan stared at the sheet in front of him like it had personally offended him.
What does it mean when a lesser wyrm is classified as "unstable?"
What year did the Second Binding Treaty between the Guild Coalition and the Association take effect?
List three primary differences between elemental and innate magic.
He groaned and slumped back in the chair. "I am so dead."
There was a soft knock at the door.
"Come in," he said, not looking up.
The door creaked open, and in stepped the same maid he seemed to keep running into—today, she carried a thin stack of scrolls under her arm and wore a faint, hesitant smile.
"You again," Jordan said with a tired smirk.
She nodded, stepping inside with a polite dip of her head. "Lady Elysia asked me to help you prepare. She said you might be… overwhelmed."
Jordan laughed weakly. "Understatement of the century."
She set the scrolls down neatly on the desk, then looked over the parchment he'd been staring at. "This one's a sample from three years ago. Most of the material hasn't changed much, but the phrasing can be tricky. Would you like help going through them?"
He raised an eyebrow. "You know how to read all this?"
She nodded with a touch of pride. "I studied at the city's public archive when I was younger—before I started working here."
Jordan blinked. "So you're, what, a scholar disguised as a maid?"
She gave a small laugh. "Hardly. But I always liked books. Even if I have to spend most of my days polishing floors, it doesn't mean I stopped learning."
He was quiet for a second, then gestured to the chair beside him. "Alright, Scholar-Maid. Help me not fail this exam."
She gave a proper curtsy, then sat beside him. "Let's begin."
They worked through the parchment together—at first slowly, Jordan stumbling over terminology and wincing at every wrong answer. But the maid had a patient rhythm, explaining things clearly, often offering little mnemonics or summaries that even he could follow.
"So, wait," Jordan said, rubbing his temple. "The Guild Coalition operates separately from the Association, but they cooperate in times of large-scale threat?"
"Exactly," she said, smiling.
"And the monster classifications go from 'minor threat' to 'existential threat,' but the real danger is anything marked as 'unstable,' because it can change category?"
"You're starting to get it," she said, pleased.
He leaned back with a sigh. "Barely. And I skipped every history class I ever had in my old life… Now I'm expected to remember treaties and magic categories."
"You'll be fine," she said lightly, then giggled. "Well, maybe not fine... but perhaps not catastrophic."
Jordan laughed, genuinely. "Great. That's what I'm aiming for—not catastrophic."
Their laughter echoed softly in the room, easing some of the pressure in his chest. He hadn't realized how much he'd needed that.
As the giggles faded, she looked at him for a quiet moment, then said, "You're… different."
"Huh?"
"From the nobles I've met," she added quickly. "You're kind. Most of them don't look at me—unless it's to give orders or insults."
Jordan frowned. "That's awful."
"It's normal," she shrugged. "But still… it's nice when someone looks at you and doesn't see something beneath them."
He held her gaze for a moment, then offered a tired, crooked smile. "Well, I'm just a guy trying not to bomb a written exam. If anything, you outrank me right now."
She laughed again, hand over her mouth. "I'll try not to let it go to my head."
They continued the session until the sun had risen a little higher in the sky, the stack of questions slowly shrinking. Jordan still didn't feel fully ready, but thanks to her, he was no longer drowning.
After a couple more practice questions and a few laughs at his own expense, Jordan finally set the last parchment aside and exhaled deeply.
"Well," he said, standing and stretching his arms over his head, "I guess I should go fail gloriously."
Stacy smiled as she began gathering the scrolls. "You're better off than you think."
"I hope so." He paused at the door, then turned to her. "Thanks, really. You didn't have to help me—but you did."
She dipped her head, but her voice was warm. "Good luck, Jordan. I'm sure you'll do fine."
He gave her a half-smile and a small wave. "See you around, Stacy."
With that, he left the room, boots echoing lightly on the stone floor as he made his way through the quiet halls. He stopped briefly at the estate's armory—Elysia had already given him permission the day before. The guard on duty recognized him and let him pass without a word.
He walked the racks slowly, scanning the weapons until his eyes settled on a sleek, well-balanced dagger. It wasn't ornate, just solid craftsmanship—steel polished to a clean shine, with a black leather-wrapped hilt. It wouldn't compare to his dagger, but it would serve well enough for now.
Strapping it to his belt, he gave the guard a nod and stepped back outside.
The morning air was brisk, sunlight brushing the tops of the trees beyond the walls. A carriage waited near the gates, already prepared to take him to the Association building, but Jordan waved it off gently.
He opted to go on foot instead.
The truth was… the carriages, the meals, the personalized clothes—they were all appreciated, but it was starting to feel like too much. Like he was being handled. And Jordan wasn't sure if he liked that.
He wanted to stand on his own feet again—even if just for a walk.
The city was already alive. Merchants setting up shop, apprentices sweeping storefronts, the hum of the morning crowd starting to build. As he walked, people glanced his way—some with recognition, others with quiet curiosity.
He adjusted the strap of his belt, his hand brushing the hilt of the borrowed dagger. No glowing tattoos, no enchanted blade. Just him.
And for now… that was enough.
---
Jordan stood quietly in the long line that curled just outside the Association's testing hall. The morning sun had climbed higher now, casting sharp shadows across the cobblestone path. Despite the cool breeze, he could feel sweat beading at the back of his neck—not from heat, but nerves.
He hadn't expected such a crowd.
Dozens of people waited with him: humans, beastkin, elves, even some short, stocky folk with long ears—dwarves, maybe? But not like the one who took his dagger. These looked more... mixed, somehow.
The line inched forward. Eventually, Jordan reached the front where a clerk sat behind a desk, parchment in hand. Before he could say anything, the man looked up, scanned his face, and gave a curt nod.
"Jordan, yes?" he asked, flipping through the papers.
"Yeah."
"You may proceed. You're already cleared."
Jordan blinked, surprised. "Thanks…"
He stepped past the threshold, feeling more eyes turn toward him. A few people whispered. He recognized some of them from the day before—the ones who had seen him step out of the carriage with Elysia. One girl even leaned over to whisper something, her eyes wide, before another elbowed her in the ribs.
"Is he a noble?" someone murmured.
"If he is, why's he taking the exam like us?"
He tried not to let it get to him and focused on the boy in front of him. He was shorter, with stark white hair and faintly pointed ears. His skin was pale and flawless, like polished marble.
An elf.
The boy glanced back at him with striking silver eyes. "You look nervous," he said, lips curling into a half-smile.
Jordan blinked, then shrugged. "I am a little."
"Don't be. As long as you score sixty or higher, you pass and move on to the final exam," the elf said calmly. Then he tilted his head. "Wait… weren't you with Miss Elysia yesterday?"
Jordan hesitated, then nodded.
The boy raised an eyebrow. "Huh. Thought you were a noble… but I guess not if you're testing with the rest of us."
Jordan chuckled under his breath. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."
The elf grinned. "Just telling it like it is."
Before they could continue, a staff member began leading the test-takers into the building. They entered a large, arched room filled with evenly spaced desks and chairs. Eighty or so of them, one for each person, and everyone was quickly shuffled into specific seats by a robed attendant.
Jordan sat near the back. A thin, black writing tool lay on the desk, oddly smooth—something between a quill and a pencil. Soon, several more attendants arrived and placed thick sheets of parchment in front of each participant.
His heart thudded once as he stared down at the exam.
He recognized a few questions—things Stacy had drilled into his brain just hours ago. Some he could answer without hesitation. Others... not so much. History, magic theory, monster classification, adventurer laws. It was a lot.
He scribbled what he could remember, but by the halfway point, he was mostly guessing.
Still, he didn't dare cheat.
In his old world, you might've risked a camera catching you—or a watchful teacher. Here? There was literally someone floating above their heads. A woman, robed in deep green with silver trim, hovering silently with a glowing staff in hand. Her eyes were shut, but Jordan could feel something… like pressure in the air. Everyone else was strangely calm, like they were used to it.
When she finally opened her eyes, her voice echoed softly through the chamber. "Time is up."
Jordan dropped his writing tool with a sigh.
The woman chanted under her breath. Her staff shimmered a deep emerald, and in one sweeping motion, all the papers floated upward in perfect order, stacking into a neat pile at the front.
She descended gracefully to the floor and faced the group. "You may leave. Results will be posted shortly."
Chairs scraped against the floor as everyone began to file out. Jordan lingered just a moment, then rose to his feet.
He didn't know how he'd done.
But for better or worse… it was over.
Outside the examination hall, Jordan stepped into the sunlight, taking in a deep breath. The tension in his chest was starting to ease when a familiar voice called out beside him.
"You made it through, huh?"
Jordan turned to see the white-haired elf from earlier, standing with his hands tucked behind his back. He still wore that faint, amused smile.
"I think so," Jordan replied. "Barely."
The elf chuckled. "Same here. I'm Ezekiel, by the way."
"Jordan."
They shook hands, and for a moment, neither spoke. Then Ezekiel glanced back toward the building. "That test wasn't as bad as I expected, but they really hit us with the history stuff."
Jordan groaned. "Don't remind me. I studied for, like… three hours. Total."
Ezekiel laughed, "Then if you passed, you must've been blessed by one of the gods."
Before Jordan could respond, the floating mage invigilator from earlier emerged with two robed assistants at her sides. With a flick of her staff, a pile of papers hovered into the air and separated mid-flight, flying gracefully into the hands of each test-taker.
Jordan's paper landed neatly in front of him.
Scrawled at the top in glowing ink:
Score: 65
His brows rose. "No way…"
"Sixty-five?" Ezekiel asked, peeking over. "You passed."
Jordan blinked, then let out a breathy laugh. "Yeah. Somehow." He mentally reminded himself to thank Stacy the moment he got back.
Before he could say more, one of the assistants called for the groups to gather by specialization. The candidates naturally split into four groups: warriors, mages, and two others Jordan guessed were the tamers and elementalists Elysia had mentioned. Unsurprisingly, every elf joined the mages—except for Ezekiel, who stuck with the warrior group alongside Jordan.
Jordan noticed but didn't say anything. It wasn't his place to ask.
Their group of around fifty-six warriors was led into a wide, open interior courtyard with stone tiling and high, columned walls. The air smelled faintly of sweat and steel. A large chalk-drawn circle dominated the center of the courtyard.
A burly man with broad shoulders and a gravelly voice stepped forward. He looked like he'd seen a hundred battles and had probably won most of them.
"Alright, listen up," the man bellowed, holding a parchment in one hand. "This is the second stage of your exam. There are two parts: a duel today, and a field test tomorrow."
He paced slowly in front of the group, voice cutting through the murmurs.
"You each get two chances. Win both duels? You move on. Lose the first and win the second? You still move on. Lose both? You're out. Crystal clear?"
A few nods followed. Jordan remained silent, heart already beginning to race again.
"This is your shot. If you impress us, you can jump straight to silver rank. Might even get scouted by a guild. You're allowed to use any weapon, but no magic, no enchanted tools, and absolutely no killing. Step out of bounds, forfeit, or get knocked out—you lose."
He raised his parchment.
"First match: Floyd Mayka versus Lelan Yotin. Step into the circle."
Two men broke away from the crowd and moved toward the center. One carried a massive battle-axe, the other a curved pair of twin blades. The others began to shuffle back to make space.
Jordan crossed his arms, watching closely. He could feel the adrenaline rising again.
His turn would come soon enough.
Floyd, gripping his massive battle axe, lowered into a ready stance. Opposite him, Lelan—a wolfman with sharp eyes and twin curved blades—did the same, muscles coiled like springs.
"Begin!" the burly invigilator barked.
Floyd charged forward with surprising speed, especially for someone wielding such a heavy weapon. Jordan's eyes widened. He's fast.
The axe came up in a brutal upward swing, but Lelan dodged just in time, stepping back on nimble feet. In one fluid motion, the wolfman countered, bringing both blades down in a twin overhead strike.
Floyd twisted his axe to block, the clash of steel echoing through the courtyard. He parried the attack, but he didn't see the kick coming from his left—
BAM!
Lelan's foot slammed into his ribs, sending Floyd staggering sideways. Without hesitation, Lelan lunged in with his right-hand blade, aiming a precise stab at Floyd's exposed side.
But just as the blade neared its target, Floyd pivoted left, catching Lelan's outstretched wrist with a powerful grip.
The wolfman's eyes widened in surprise.
He raised his left blade to slash Floyd's arm—but before he could strike, Floyd dropped his axe with a loud clatter and drove a crushing punch straight into Lelan's face.
The blow landed squarely, causing Lelan to grunt and drop the blade in his captured hand.
Before he could recover, Floyd grabbed his shoulder and swung him hard, sending him flying across the circle.
But Lelan wasn't down yet.
With a sharp growl, he twisted in mid-air, landing on his feet in a crouch, claws digging into the stone floor as he skidded to a halt. He was missing one blade but looked ready to charge again.
Before he could take a step, the invigilator suddenly appeared between them, one hand raised.
"Stop."
He pointed at the ground where Lelan now stood—outside the chalk circle.
Floyd was declared the winner.
"Smart move," the invigilator told him, nodding. "But next time—don't drop your weapon. In a real fight, that could cost you your life."
Floyd picked up his axe, giving a short grunt of acknowledgment.
Jordan, still watching from the edge of the group, let out a breath.
These fights aren't just about strength—they're about timing and instinct.
His own nerves started to rise again.
His turn would be soon.
Although the first fight had ended quickly, the intensity of it still lingered in the air. The group of hopeful adventurers watched in silence as the circle was cleared and the invigilator moved to call the next names.
"Ezekiel Varnis and Rudo Telm. Step forward."
Jordan blinked. Ezekiel? He hadn't even noticed the white-haired elf step away from his side.
Only now did he catch sight of the massive sword strapped across the boy's back—a blade easily taller than he was and unusually wide, its edges slightly curved like it had been forged more for crushing than slicing. For a moment, Jordan just stared, trying to process how the seemingly younger elf had been walking around so casually with something that looked like it belonged to a war golem.
How the hell is he carrying that thing?
Ezekiel stepped into the circle with calm poise, drawing the greatsword in one fluid, practiced motion. The crowd murmured faintly—clearly, Jordan wasn't the only one surprised.
Across from him stood Rudo, a broad-shouldered human with a chain-wrapped club and a wild grin. He cracked his neck as he eyed the boy. "Didn't think I'd be up against a pretty little elf. Hope you don't break too easy."
Ezekiel didn't respond. He simply lifted the sword with both hands and settled into a stance that seemed too natural for someone his size.
Jordan watched with growing curiosity. He had a feeling this match wasn't going to go how Rudo expected.