The villagers continued to whisper as Selvara marched down the road, every step ringing with purpose despite the strange spectacle she presented. Their stares clung to her like thorns, but she did not waver. The dirt path eventually led her to a larger building—sturdy timbers, a heavy door marked by scratches, and a simple crest painted above it. The Adventurers' Guild.
Pushing the door open, she entered. The hall smelled of sweat, cheap ale, and the iron tang of steel. Dozens of rugged men and women glanced up from their tables. Tankards paused halfway to lips. Dice froze mid-roll. Every gaze locked on her.
Her armor—or rather, her lack of armor—spoke louder than any introduction. The black one-piece clung mercilessly to her frame, accentuating every voluptuous curve her noble body possessed.
The fabric pressed tightly against her chest, lifting and shaping the heavy weight of her breasts, their fullness outlined without mercy. The garment tapered inward at her waist, emphasizing the delicate narrowness before flaring out to her broad hips. From there it stretched smoothly across the round swell of her thighs and rear, glossy in the dim light, as though the very material delighted in displaying her.
Unlike the clattering adventurers clad in steel and leather, she bore no sword, no shield, not even a dagger. She strode forward defenseless, though her confident steps gave the illusion of strength that could not be measured by arms alone.
"Who walks into the guild dressed like that?" someone muttered.
"She doesn't even have a weapon…" another whispered.
"Gods above… is she here to fight or to flaunt herself?"
Their words buzzed like flies, but Selvara lifted her chin, voice carrying with theatrical gravity.
"Good people of this guild! I am Selvara Draymore, knight of noble birth! Though my armor appears… unorthodox, it is bound to me as both burden and boon. I seek registration among your ranks, that I may serve this world by bearing the pains others cannot!"
Silence followed her declaration. The guild receptionist, a woman with sharp eyes who had clearly seen every manner of strange adventurer, raised a brow as Selvara approached the counter.
The knight's gauntleted hands pressed against the wooden desk, her chest leaning forward just enough that the one-piece strained at its seams. Her eyes gleamed with a mixture of pride and strange eagerness.
"I come unarmed," she declared solemnly, "for steel is but a tool. My true weapon is this body, and the suffering it may endure for the sake of all!"
A ripple of murmurs swept through the hall. Some laughed, others looked away in discomfort, and a few stared in fascination at the strange woman whose shame seemed more dazzling than any polished blade.
The receptionist finally sighed, producing parchment and quill.
"…Very well. Let us see if your conviction matches your words. Name, class, and origin, please."
Selvara's smile widened. She was exactly where she wished to be—at the threshold of ridicule and challenge, ready to carve her path through humiliation into glory.
The guild hall remained hushed as Selvara stood at the counter, the black one-piece gleaming faintly beneath the torchlight. Every line of her body was outlined in shameless clarity: the proud swell of her chest straining against the cursed fabric, the slim curve of her waist, and the generous breadth of hips and thighs that drew eyes without mercy. Even in stillness, her presence radiated an allure that silenced mocking laughter before it could begin.
The receptionist adjusted her quill and spoke, her tone measured.
"Very well, lady knight. For the record, state your name, class, and origin."
Selvara pressed her gauntleted hand to her breast and spoke in her usual dramatic cadence.
"I am Selvara Draymore, noble of Belzerg, knight by training, and shield of those who cannot shield themselves!"
The words rang with pomp, but the crowd's attention lingered not on her title, but on the undeniable magnetism of her form. Her Charisma was beyond ordinary measure—rank S by default, the sheer visual and sensual impact of her figure pushing it to SS whenever the eyes of men fell upon her.
It was not a charm she controlled, but an unavoidable consequence of the cursed armor that clung to her. Her every movement carried an unspoken weight of seduction, a lure that drew gazes and unsettled minds.
The receptionist's quill paused as she assessed the woman before her. "Class… Knight," she noted carefully, though her expression betrayed skepticism at the lack of weaponry. "Attributes will be measured now."
A small crystal was set upon the desk. Selvara, unhesitating, placed her hand upon it. The stone pulsed, glowing faintly as it revealed her stats to the scribe.
Strength: A
Endurance: A+
Agility: B
Intelligence: C
Charisma: S → SS (bonus active in presence of men)
The murmurs rose again at the final result, and several men shifted in their seats, caught between awe and discomfort. The women looked on with thin-lipped disapproval, sensing all too well the unintentional pull Selvara exerted.
The receptionist exhaled through her nose and set her pen down. "Your… talents are certainly unique. Very well. As of this moment, you are officially registered as an adventurer."
Selvara straightened proudly, her chest thrust forward as though to emphasize the words. "Rejoice, good people! For I, Selvara Draymore, am now bound to your cause! Every wound, every shame, every torment shall pass through me before it reaches you!"
Some laughed nervously, others looked away, and more than a few men kept their eyes fixed on her, unable to resist the spell of her presence.
Unarmed, clad only in the Armor of Shame, Selvara had taken her first step into a new world of adventure. And whether the guild liked it or not, her very existence would not go unnoticed.